Chapter 1: The Intense Debate
Chapter Text
The boardroom fell silent as Lestat stepped inside, ten minutes late and unapologetically calm. His tailored suit was impeccable, his posture relaxed, and yet his eyes—sharp and intentional—immediately locked onto Louis.
Louis didn’t stand to greet him. He simply looked away, jaw tense. He had been preparing this speech for weeks, memorizing every word, rehearsing every pause. He didn’t need Lestat’s presence, or worse, his smirks and charming glances, to distract him now.For the past few days, Lestat had been watching him—winking when no one was looking, throwing small, confident smiles in his direction, the kind that could melt steel. Louis hated that they still had an effect on him. His heart burned every time Lestat acted like the past didn’t matter, like nothing had happened between them.
But today wasn’t about the past. Today was about legacy.
His father’s company. His place in it.
His right to stand among the board members—not just as a son, but as a leader.
Of course, Lestat was here for the same reason. Both of them had been summoned to present their visions for the company’s future. Two heirs to two empires, once friends, now rivals, forced to stand side by side and contradict each other’s ideas before the board. It was an evaluation. A test. And perhaps a declaration of war.Louis clenched his fists under the table. The idea of standing next to Lestat—close enough to feel the heat radiating from him, close enough to remember—was enough to make his heart race. But it wasn’t nerves. No. It was adrenaline. That’s what he told himself.
He watched as Lestat took his seat across the room, throwing a casual glance in his direction. It wasn’t a challenge. It wasn’t arrogance. It was worse—it was confidence, laced with the memory of something shared, something broken.
Louis inhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. Don’t think about him. Not now.The head board manager stood and began the formalities—an opening speech filled with empty praise and corporate platitudes. Louis barely listened. His mind was buzzing with the lines he had rehearsed, the arguments he had crafted. But beneath it all, doubt whispered.
What if my speech isn’t strong enough? What if he tears it apart? What if they choose him?
He couldn’t let that happen.
The chairman’s voice cut through the haze: “Now, we’ll hear from our young successors. Gentlemen, the floor is yours.”
Lestat rose from his chair—slowly, deliberately. Louis stood as well, a bit too quickly, his chair scraping the floor. Together, they walked to the front of the room, the click of their shoes echoing like gunshots.
Two small desks had been placed at the front, facing the board. They took their positions, and before Louis could open his mouth, Lestat began.No greeting. No warning. Just a smooth, calculated start, like he’d been waiting for this moment.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lestat began, “our company stands at a crossroads. We can choose to follow the patterns of the past or to embrace innovation…”Louis swallowed hard as Lestat continued, outlining a bold and ambitious plan involving digital reinvention, global expansion, and investment in sustainable tech. His ideas were sharp. Risky, but undeniably forward-thinking. And the board was listening—leaning in, nodding slightly, intrigued.
Of course they’re impressed, Louis thought bitterly. Lestat could sell a flame to ice.
But now it was his turn.
When Lestat stepped back, Louis approached the microphone. He took a breath, let it fill him, then began.“Thank you,” he said. “While innovation is necessary, so is stability. Growth without a foundation is just collapse waiting to happen. What I offer is a sustainable, long-term plan—a way to build on what we’ve achieved, without gambling it all on speculation.”
His voice gained strength as he moved through his points: refining existing systems, improving internal structure, expanding through partnerships rather than aggressive takeovers. His vision was grounded, cautious but not stagnant. And when he spoke, he looked each board member in the eye—not like Lestat, who performed. Louis connected. He explained. He justified.He ended with a quiet confidence that surprised even him.
When he stepped back, he caught Lestat watching him—not with amusement, not even with mockery, but with something unreadable. For a brief second, the mask slipped. And Louis saw the boy he used to know.
But then the moment passed.
The chairman stood again. “We’ll take time to deliberate,” he said. “For now, we’ll move to the next part—each of you will address the other’s plan and raise your concerns.”
Of course, Louis thought. The duel isn’t over yet.
Lestat turned first, voice still smooth but now edged with precision.“Louis’s plan is commendable,” he said. “Safe, secure. But the market won’t wait for us to feel ready. Playing it safe means getting left behind.”
Louis felt the jab and prepared for his turn. When he finally responded, he did so calmly, rebutting Lestat’s points with facts, statistics, and logic. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t get flustered.
But inside, he was burning.
Because this wasn’t just business. This was personal. Every word they spoke carried years of buried history, resentment, betrayal. And under all of it, something else—something neither of them dared name.When the board adjourned, polite applause followed them out. Louis grabbed his papers and made for the hallway. He needed air. He needed to get away.
But then he heard the footsteps behind him.
“You surprised me,” Lestat said.
Louis turned. “Did I?”
Lestat’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’ve changed.”
“I had to.”
There was a silence between them, stretched thin by years of absence. Then Lestat added, “You were good in there.”
Louis crossed his arms. “You were better.”
“I wasn’t talking about the pitch.”
That made Louis pause.
He hated how fast his heart still responded. How easy it would be to fall back into the past. But he couldn’t. Not again.
“This doesn’t change anything,” he said, stepping back.
Lestat gave a half-smile. “It might.”
But Louis was already walking away, shoulders stiff, mind racing. He had no time for ghosts—not when the future was at stake.
Still…he could feel Lestat’s eyes on him all the way down the hall.
Chapter 2: The Past Comes Haunting Back
Summary:
You guys convinced me:)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The boardroom was empty now.The lights had fell into a quiet hum overhead,casting a soft gold glow across the polished table.Outside the windows, the city pulsed in silence,bright towers blinking in the dark,cars drifting past like ghosts.But inside the room,there was only Louis.
he hasn't moved in nearly thirty minutes.
The presentation was over.the board was gone.Lestat was gone.And still,louis sat there,staring at the last page of his notes.He didn't need to review them anymore.He knew every line by heart.
But he didnt feel finished.
His finger tightened slightly around the edge of the paper.He hated the silence in his chest.It wasnt relief.It wasnt satisfaction.It was something else,something that had followed him all day,from the moment lestat walked in late,smirking like he owned the room.But maybe he did…
Ten minutes late.As always
And somehow still….imperfectly perfect.
Louis let out a breath through his nose,quiet and tired.He hated how much space lestat still took up in his mind.He hated the way his stomach twisted when they locked eyes.He hated how the board had leaned forward when lestat spoke,how he always made people listen without effort.
He ruins everything just by walking into a room,Louis thought bitterly.
No.That wasn't true.Lestat didn't ruin things.He made them complicated.
And Louis had spent years trying to avoid complications.
He glanced at the empty seat across the table.Lestat had sat there earlier,too relaxed,one hand resting carelessly on the table,the other tapping a pen like he was bored.But louis had seen the way he looked at him.Not bored.Something else.Something almost…..familiar.
It made louis feel like he was standing too close to the sun.
They hadn't spoken in years.Not really.Not since the day their families made them stop.Back then,it had felt like being stuck in permanent exile from something precious.Lestat had been part of him.And suddenly,he was gone.
And now they were here again,face to face.Older,colder but still not strangers.
Louis stood up slowly,pushing his chair back.He crossed the room and opened the floor-to-ceiling window a crack.A breeze slipped in,cool against his skin.He rested his hands on the window shelf.looking out at the city lights.
Maybe he had done enough today.Maybe not.
He was about to pack up when he heard something,soft footsteps in the hallway.
Louis turned as the door clicked open.He didn't say anything.He didn't need to.It was obvious who it was.Only one person walked like that slow,smooth,like he wasn't in a hurry for anyone.
Lestat stepped inside,letting the door close behind him with a soft thud.He didn't speak right away.Just looked around the room as if trying to decide whether it was worth saying something.
‘’I forgot my tablet,’’ he said finally,his voice calm.
Louis raised an eyebrow.’’No,you didn't.’’
There was a small pause,then a shrug.
‘’You’re right,’’Lestat admitted.’’i didn't.’’
He walked farther into the room but didn't sit down.Instead,he stood near the end of the table,hands in his pockets,his posture too casual to be accidental.He was watching Louis too directly,too calmly.
Louis looked away and began gathering his papers,even though he wasn't actually ready to leave.’’So what do you want.’’
Lestat was silent for a second.Then,with a fly smile:’’Just wanted to talk.’’
Louis let out a soft breath,more like a scoff.’’You and I don't talk.’’
‘’Not lately.’’
‘’Not for years.’’
‘’Whose fault is that ?’’
Louis froze,just a second.Then he kept stacking his notes.’’Doesnt matter anymore.’’
‘’It matters to me.’’
Louis finally looked at him.Really looked.
‘’You shouldn't be here,’’he said.’’Not tonight.’’
‘’Why ?Because i got under your skin ?’’
‘’No,’’Louis said sharply,his voice quieter now.’’Because it's wrong…’’
They stared at each other,the air suddenly too thick between them.
Lestat's smile faded just a little,enough to show something else underneath it,something quieter.
‘’I liked what you said in the meeting,’’he said after a moment.’’It was strong,clear.Better than i expected.’’
Louis frowned.’’Is that supposed to be a compliment ?’’
‘’It is.’’
‘’I don't need your approval,lestat.’’
‘’I didn't say you did,chérie.’’Lestat paused,then added,’’But you looked like you did.’’
Louis clenched his jaw.
Lestat stepped closer,slow but steady.’’You’ve always cared what i think.Even when you said you didn't.’’
‘’I was sixteen the last time i cared about what you thought.’’
‘’That's not true.’’
Louis looked away.’’You think you know everything.’’
‘’I know you.’’Lestat said softly.
There it was again.That look in his eyes.The one Louis hated.The one he remembered from before,the one that said I still see you,even if you pretend i don't.
Louis hated how much it still hit him.
He stepped back,putting the table between them again.’’This isn't high school.This is business.We’re not whatever we used to be.’’
Lestat tilted his head slightly.’’Friends ?’’
‘’Something like that.’’
‘’More like something almost.’’
Louis didn't answer.He didn't need to.
‘’I never stopped wondering,’’Lestat said,his voice lower now.’’What would've happened if we hadn't been forced to stop seeing each other.’’
‘’We didn't fight it.’’
‘’You didn't.’’
Louis looked up,angry now.’’Do you think I had a choice ?Do you think your father would have let you keep being friends with me if i had ?’’
Lestat did not respond right away.He crossed his
arms and leaned back slightly against the table,his eyes steady on Louis.
‘’Maybe not,’’he said.’’But i would've tried.If i’d known you’d disappear that fast.’’
‘’I didn't disappear.I just….adapted.’’
‘’You shut down.’’
Louis' expression tightened.
Lestat took another step forward.He was close now.Not enough to touch,but close enough that Louis could smell his cologne faint and familiar.Too familiar.
Louis swallowed.’’You have a gift ,you know.Making everything sound like its my fault.’’
Lestat's voice stayed quiet.’’I didn't say it was your fault.I said it wasn't simple.’’
Silence fell between them again.But this time.it didn't feel as sharp,it felt heavy,full of things unsaid.
Louis sat down again,slowly.Not to relax,but because he felt too tired to keep standing.Lestat didn't sit.He just stood near him,watching him from the side like he didn't want to look away.
‘’You really think we can work together like this ?’’Louis asked finally,not looking at him.
Lestat smiled,but it was smaller now.’’I think we’ll try.’’
‘’And if it doesn't work out ?’’
‘’Then we’ll burn each other down.’’
LOuis looked up sharply,but Lestat's expression wasn't cruel.It wasn't even playful.It was serious.Honest,maybe.
And that was worse.
Louis looked away again.He hated that part of him which would ask lestat to stay.Even now.Even after everything.
‘’I can't be around you like this,’’he said quietly.
Lestat nodded one.’’I know.’’
Another long pause.
Then louis added,almost like a confession:’’You make me forget what i'm supposed to do.’’
Lestat's voice was even softer than before.’’And you make me remember,mon cher.’’
Louis glimpsed at him,and for a second,just a second,it felt like the air between them might break.Like something was about to happen.Like one of them would finally say it.
But they didn't.
Lestat stepped back.His eyes didn't leave louis.
‘’I’ll see you tomorrow.’’he said.
And then he turned and walked out,leaving the door open behind him.
Leaving Louis to sit alone.
Louis stayed seated long after Lestat had gone. The sound of his footsteps faded quickly, but the air didn’t shift back to normal. It still felt like he was there,like the tension he carried had soaked into the walls.
Louis leaned forward, elbows on the table, and let his face drop into his hands. He had thought he was prepared for this. Thought he could stay professional, calm, detached.
He wasn’t.
He hadn’t expected Lestat to speak to him like that. Not after years of cold silence and distance. And he definitely hadn’t expected that… look. That way he had stood too close without touching. That voice, quieter than he remembered, but just as steady. Confident. Familiar.
And dangerous.
Louis stood up again, finally pushing himself to move, pacing slowly across the room. It was too late to be here, but he didn’t want to go home yet. Home meant quiet. Home meant being alone with every thought he didn’t want.
He paused in front of the window again and stared out. The city was still lit, still alive, and yet it felt so far away.
The truth was, he hadn’t seen Lestat properly in almost a decade. Their families had split everything in half deals, buildings, even friends. But most of all, they had split the two of them.
Louis had accepted it. Had shut the door. Had taught himself to stop caring.
Or at least, he’d tried.
And now? All it took was a few words, a look, a step too close and suddenly everything he’d buried was shifting again.
A memory surfaced, sharp and unwanted:
The last day they spoke,really spoke. They were seventeen. In Lestat’s car, parked behind Louis’s family estate. The sky was gray. They’d argued about nothing, but it had felt like the end of the world. Then the call came. Louis’s father. Come home. Right now.
They never saw each other again after that. Not until now.
Louis closed his eyes. It didn’t matter anymore. They were different people. Grown. Businessmen. Rivals.
So why did he still feel like a boy when Lestat looked at him like that?
He picked up his things and finally left the boardroom. The office was quiet as he walked down the hallway, lights dimmed and shadows stretched across the marble floors. He passed the elevator and took the stairs without thinking.
On the ground floor, he stepped into the night. The air outside was cooler than expected, carrying a low wind that tugged at his shirt. The street was almost empty now. A few cars. A couple of people were walking. The usual noise of a city that never slept.
He paused, pulling out his phone. No messages. Not that he expected any.
He wasn’t sure where he wanted to go next home, maybe. Or nowhere. Just keep walking until the thoughts quieten.
Then, as he turned the corner, he saw a figure leaning against the side of the building. A shadow with a cigarette glowing faintly between two fingers.
Lestat.
Of course.
He didn’t look surprised to see Louis. Just lifted his head slightly and said, “Still can’t sleep after big meetings?”
Louis stopped a few feet away, arms crossed. “You waited?”
Lestat shrugged. “Not on purpose. Thought a walk might help. Then I figured you’d still be here.”
“You were right.”
“I usually am.”
Louis rolled his eyes but didn’t leave. For some reason, he couldn’t.
Lestat took another drag, then flicked ash onto the sidewalk. “You look tired.”
“I feel tired.”
“Long day.”
“Long week,” Louis said.
They stood there in silence again, the kind that was too quiet to be comfortable but too familiar to be awkward. A passing car sent a breeze between them, and Louis shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
“I meant what I said,” Lestat said after a moment.
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
Louis looked at him. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Lestat. Be nice? Be nostalgic?”
“I don’t know either,” Lestat said honestly. “I just didn’t want to leave it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like we’re pretending none of it happened.”
Louis exhaled slowly. “It’s easier to pretend.”
“I don’t want easy.”
Louis gave a bitter smile. “Of course not. You never did.”
Lestat crushed the cigarette under his shoe and stepped closer. Not too close. But closer than most people would stand at this hour, under this kind of sky.
“Can I ask you something?” Lestat said.
Louis didn’t answer, but he didn’t walk away either.
“Why did you stop writing back?” Lestat asked. “Back then.”
Louis Froze.
“I sent letters. I texted. I even called once.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you answer?”
Louis hesitated, then said, quietly, “Because if I had, I wouldn’t have stopped.”
Lestat blinked, and his expression shifted,not smug, not proud. Just still.
Louis looked away again, hating how exposed he suddenly felt.
“You don’t get to ask me that,” he said. “Not after all this time.”
“I think I do,” Lestat said gently.
“You think about a lot of things.”
They were quiet again.
“I’m not here to fight you,” Lestat said.
“You’re doing a good job of it anyway.”
Lestat gave a small, tired laugh. “You always did know how to throw walls up the second things got real.”
“And you always pushed when you should’ve stopped.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. The wind picked up a little, brushing past them like a reminder that the world was still turning.
Finally, Louis broke the silence. “This can’t happen again.”
Lestat looked at him. “What can’t?”
“This,” Louis said, gesturing between them. “Whatever this is. The conversations, the late nights, the… looks. We can’t. We’re supposed to be on opposite sides.”
“We’re not on opposite sides,” Lestat said. “We’re on the same page. Just reading it differently.”
Louis stared at him, speechless.
“You said I make you forget what you’re supposed to do,” Lestat added. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
“It is when the stakes are this high.”
Lestat stepped back finally, like he understood this was as far as he could go,for now.
“Alright,” he said. “We’ll keep it professional.”
Louis raised an eyebrow. “You can do that?”
“I can try.”
He turned to leave, then paused. “But don’t lie to yourself, Louis.”
“About what?”
“You didn’t stay late because of your speech,” Lestat said. “You stayed because you knew I might.”
And with that, he walked away down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted toward the sky.
Louis watched him disappear into the night, then stood alone in the quiet street, feeling everything he wasn’t ready to name.
Notes:
Sorry if there’s errors and if it’s all stuck together I speed runned it a little
Chapter Text
The city was still waking up when Louis arrived at the building.
The air was crisp, carrying that sharp, early-morning silence only found before the chaos of the day began. Louis stepped out of the black car and glanced up at the tower that bore his family name,his father’s legacy carved in glass and steel. Today, that legacy would either grow under his vision… or be handed to someone else.
He moved quickly through the lobby, nodding to the guards without pausing. His shoes echoed against the polished floors, crisp and controlled. But inside, his thoughts were louder than ever.
This was it.
The final meeting. The last discussion with the board before they made their decision about the future of the company’s flagship project. Months of planning, late nights, endless edits,and now it all came down to one room, one presentation, and unfortunately… one rival.
Lestat.
Louis’s jaw tightened as he reached the elevator. He didn’t press the button right away. Instead, he exhaled slowly, staring at his reflection in the metallic doors. His dark hair was neatly styled, the navy suit tailored to precision. Every detail was perfect. But his eyes,they always gave him away. That mix of focus and fire. That hint of hesitation he hated seeing.
The elevator dinged open, and he stepped in.
Fifteen floors up, the conference room was already prepared,glasses filled, notepads lined up, the digital screen displaying the project name in bold white font: Project Amarante. A name that once meant future and growth. Now it meant war.
Louis set down his folder at his spot and walked to the window. The city stretched beneath him, indifferent. And yet, it felt like the whole skyline was holding its breath with him.
He rehearsed his opening again. He had said it in his head so many times, he was starting to hear it in his sleep. Every fact was checked, every number cross-referenced. His proposal wasn’t just sound,it was the product of strategy, experience, and hours spent obsessing over every possible flaw.
He was ready.
Or at least, he had been—until yesterday.
Yesterday,when Lestat spoke to him like no time had passed. When he’d stood just close enough to send Louis spiraling back into a version of himself he had buried under a decade of discipline. When he had smiled that way,the one that asked too many questions and offered no answers.
Louis ran a hand over his face. He couldn’t let that happen again. Not today.
A soft knock on the open door made him turn. One of the assistants stepped inside, holding a stack of papers.
“They asked me to bring these final updates,” she said, placing them down. “And… Mr. de Lioncourt confirmed he’ll be arriving shortly.”
Of course he will, Louis thought. Late, as usual. Like he’s doing the board a favor by showing up at all.
He gave the assistant a polite nod and she left quietly.
He had maybe ten minutes left. Ten minutes before everything started,before every board member took their seat, and Lestat strolled in like it was a performance made just for him.
Louis sat, opened his folder, and scanned through the pages again. He didn’t need to. He knew every line by heart. But he needed to do something with his hands, something to distract his thoughts.
The project meant everything to him. Not just because it was bold and clean and forward-thinking,but because it was his. The first real move he was making on his own. The first time he stepped out from his father’s shadow and said, This is mine.
And of course Lestat had chosen to challenge him on this. Of course this was the thing they would fight over.
Somewhere deep down, a voice asked if it really had to be like this. If things had gone differently, would they be in this room on the same side?
He shut the thought down before it could grow.
The boardroom doors opened again,this time louder. Laughter filtered in before the person did, smooth and careless.
Lestat.
He walked in like he owned the floor, dressed in a deep charcoal suit with a wine-red tie that felt just flashy enough to be deliberate. His blond hair was tied back neatly, his expression calm and unreadable. But his eyes?
His eyes went straight to Louis.
And stayed there.
Louis didn’t stand. He didn’t move at all, in fact. Just met Lestat’s gaze for half a second before turning back to his notes. He could feel Lestat’s smile in the air like static.
“You’re early,” Lestat said casually, making his way to the other side of the table.
“You’re late,” Louis answered without looking up.
Lestat chuckled. “You always did like to be the first one in the room. Nervous habit?”
Louis glanced at him finally. “Professionalism.”
“Ah, yes. That old thing.”
Before Louis could answer, the board members began arriving in pairs,men and women in tailored suits, chatting as they took their places. Greetings were exchanged, brief and polite. No one mentioned that this was their final discussion on the matter. They all knew.
Everyone knew.
By the time the chairman entered and took his seat, the mood in the room had changed. The light banter died down. The silence grew heavier.
“Gentlemen,” the chairman said, looking between Louis and Lestat, “this is it. Your final opportunity to present and defend your version of the Amarante project. After today, the board will vote.”
Louis sat straighter.
Lestat folded his hands on the table and smiled.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Louis breathed in once, then rose from his chair.
Showtime.
The air shifted the moment Lestat sat down.
He didn’t rush. He never did. Every movement was deliberate,cool, graceful, designed to suggest that nothing, not even this final board meeting, could rattle him. He leaned back in his chair as if the outcome was already written in his favor, legs crossed, fingers tapping lightly against the wood of the table.
Louis didn’t look at him, but he didn’t need to. He felt him. The warmth of Lestat’s presence wasn’t physical,it was psychological, sharp and consuming, like the hum of electricity before a storm. Always too close, even from across the room.
“Nice turnout,” Lestat murmured, his voice low enough to sound casual but loud enough for Louis to hear. “I half expected you’d try to postpone again.”
Louis’s jaw clenched. “Only when something isn’t ready. Unlike you, I don’t improvise billion-dollar strategies.”
“Ah, but improvisation is an art. You should try it sometime.” Lestat’s smile lingered at the corners of his mouth, taunting.
Louis turned slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. “This isn’t a stage, Lestat.”
“Oh, but isn’t it?”
Their silent war was interrupted by the voice of the chairman clearing his throat. The board had settled in, and the room had shifted into something heavier,less polite, more clinical. Names were checked off. Documents were distributed. And the large display screen behind them flickered to life.
The presentation would begin soon. And with it, the final blow.
The chairman leaned forward. “As we mentioned, this is your last opportunity to present your cases. We’ve heard the general framework of each proposal in earlier sessions. What we expect today is clarity, strength, and a clear defense of your plan’s long-term impact.”
A pause.
“Mr. de Pointe du Lac, you may begin.”
Louis stood, his expression composed. But inside, every nerve felt stretched. He moved toward the front of the room, unrolling his digital presentation with practiced ease. The first slide lit up behind him,bold text, clean structure, efficient. Like him.
“This project,” Louis began, “is not just a financial investment. It’s a legacy. Amarante isn’t about the next five years,it’s about the next fifty. It’s about sustainability, credibility, and growth that doesn’t depend on market theatrics or short-term spikes. It’s about knowing who we are and where we’re going.”
As he spoke, his voice steadied. His hands moved with just the right amount of expression. He’d worked on this pitch for weeks, but he didn’t read from his notes. He didn’t need to. This wasn’t just a project,it was his future.
He glanced only once at Lestat, who remained motionless in his seat. Watching. Always watching.
Louis continued. He laid out the data, the models, the projected returns. He brought up environmental concerns, brand reputation, strategic partnerships. When he was done, there was a moment of silence in the room.
And then the chairman nodded. “Thank you, Mr. de Pointe du Lac. Mr. de Lioncourt, you may proceed.”
Lestat rose from his chair with an almost lazy elegance, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt before walking to the front. He didn’t look at the screen. Didn’t touch the remote. He didn’t need slides,of course he didn’t. This was Lestat, after all.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “Louis is right about one thing,Amarante is a legacy. But legacy, if we’re not careful, becomes stagnation. What I’m offering is vision. Risk, yes,but reward that aligns with the times we’re living in. We’re not in the same economy we were ten years ago. The world is louder, faster, more unpredictable.”
He paced a little, hands in motion, voice smooth like velvet laced with conviction. “What I’m proposing isn’t just a plan. It’s momentum. A reinvention. We’ll cut through the noise by creating something no one else dares to try.”
He painted the picture well,media attention, international interest, brand revitalization. It was bold, aggressive, and undeniably magnetic.
Louis watched with a tight grip on his pen.
Damn him.
He was good. Always had been. That charisma that turned heads, that smile that could distract anyone,even a room full of corporate sharks. And the worst part? Some of what he said made sense. Dangerous sense.
When Lestat finished, the board didn’t speak right away. There was quiet again. But this time it felt thicker, as though the room was processing the weight of what had just been said.
The chairman finally nodded. “Thank you both. We’ll move to discussion.”
And that’s when it really began.
Questions flew. Louis countered with logic, Lestat with flair. They spoke over each other once,maybe twice,and had to be asked to let the other finish. Louis pointed out the volatility of Lestat’s plan. Lestat attacked the rigidity of Louis’s. Every answer was a duel. Every glance a calculated jab.
This wasn’t business anymore. This was war in suits.
When the questions ended, and the board was left to their notes and quiet murmurs, both men returned to their seats,drained but pretending not to be.
Lestat leaned slightly toward Louis, close enough to speak without anyone hearing.
“You always were so careful,” he said, voice almost affectionate. “But I wonder… How much of this pitch was really yours? And how much was just you trying to outdo me?”
Louis didn’t even blink. “I don’t need to outdo you, Lestat. I only need to prove I’m better.”
Lestat smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“We’ll see.”
The boardroom was quiet,but it wasn’t the calm kind of quiet. It was the kind that pressed into the walls, made every breath feel louder, every pen stroke on paper feel like a crack of thunder.
Louis sat stiffly, hands folded on the table, eyes forward. He didn’t look at Lestat. Not again. If he did, he wasn’t sure what would happen,and that was dangerous.
Lestat, on the other hand, was too relaxed for someone who’d just been publicly challenged. He lounged slightly in his chair, gaze flicking from face to face around the board, reading every expression like a strategist preparing his final move.
And the worst part? He didn’t look worried.
“Let’s be clear,” one board member finally said, tapping her fingers against a file. “We’re impressed by both proposals. The numbers are solid. But the direction,that’s what we’re debating now. We’re being asked to choose between stability and reinvention.”
She looked between them.
“Which one makes us leaders?”
That was the question. The one everyone was circling around.
Another executive leaned forward. “Mr. de Pointe du Lac, your proposal keeps us in familiar territory. Strong partnerships, smart expansions. It’s admirable. But how do you respond to the concern that it might lack… ambition?”
Louis nodded slightly. He’d expected that.
“It’s not about lacking ambition,” he replied calmly. “It’s about building something that lasts. My plan isn’t loud, but it’s effective. It doesn’t risk alienating our core or destabilizing our partnerships. We grow with integrity.”
“And what if the market demands disruption?” someone else pressed.
“I say we meet the market halfway. We adapt,but we don’t compromise the foundation that built this company in the first place.”
Lestat let out a breath, soft but pointed. The kind that said, Here we go again.
“And you, Mr. de Lioncourt?” the chairman asked.
Lestat straightened, smooth as ever. “My proposal doesn’t throw the foundation away,it renovates it. The market doesn’t want halfway. It wants bold, decisive, and fast. We can’t afford to play safe when the world is sprinting ahead.”
He paused, then added, “Legacy is important. But legacy can’t be used as a shield from evolution.”
That landed hard.
Louis felt it. So did the board.
For a moment, no one spoke.
And then, someone brought up the numbers again. Financial projections. Market trends. That’s where Louis shined. Where he had control. But Lestat matched every point with something intangible,vision, media appeal, global potential. It was like data versus drama. And both were convincing.
It went on like that. For too long.
And when it ended, the room didn’t feel resolved.
The chairman finally rose. “We appreciate both your time and your commitment. We’ll convene privately after this meeting and deliver our final decision before the end of the week. Until then, you are both dismissed.”
Dismissed.
Like they were just employees.
Louis stood up a little too fast. Lestat rose slower, more graceful, like none of this mattered.
As the board began collecting their things and moving into the private discussion room, Louis turned and made for the exit, trying to keep his pace steady. But the second he reached the hallway, he heard Lestat’s voice behind him.
“You’re walking like you lost already.”
Louis didn’t stop walking. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
Lestat followed, footsteps echoing behind. “I don’t know. You losing isn’t nearly as fun as watching you unravel trying not to.”
That made Louis stop.
He turned sharply, facing Lestat fully. The hallway was empty except for them,perfect.
“You think this is some game?”
“I think you’ve made it one.”
Louis’s voice dropped. “You hijacked this project. You knew how much it meant to me. You could’ve pitched anything else, but you waited until I showed my plans. And then you…”
“Improved them,” Lestat interrupted, smiling.
Louis’s hand clenched into a fist. “You’ve always done this. You take what you want and call it vision.”
“And you hide behind rules and call it loyalty,” Lestat shot back, stepping closer. “Don’t act like you’re some innocent victim in all this. You want to win as much as I do.”
“This isn’t just about winning.”
“Oh?” Lestat’s eyes narrowed, heat rising in his tone. “Then what is it about, Louis? Proving something to your father? Making sure the board sees you as more than the quiet little heir? Or is it about me?”
The silence after that was sharp.
Louis didn’t respond. He couldn’t,not when everything in his chest was pulsing too fast, too loud.
Lestat tilted his head, voice softer now. “Because if it’s about me, then at least admit that. Admit that you’d rather burn this whole project to the ground than let me take credit for anything.”
“I’m not the one who walks into rooms thinking charm makes up for ethics,” Louis said, low and bitter. “You always did think you could talk your way into anything. Even back then.”
That stopped Lestat. Just for a breath.
“Back then,” he repeated. “Is that what this is really about?”
Louis didn’t answer.
Because it was.
Because somewhere beneath the business and the competition and the sharp words, there was still a boy who had once looked at Lestat like he held the entire world. And that boy had watched it all collapse when families turned to enemies, and Lestat turned cold.
That boy still remembered.
And he hated that he did.
“Forget it,” Louis muttered, brushing past Lestat.
But Lestat caught his wrist, gently.
“Louis.”
He paused, tense.
Their eyes met.
For a second, just one, there was no boardroom. No project. No rivalry.
Just a touch. And everything it carried.
Louis pulled his hand away.
“We’re done here.”
And he walked.
Lestat stayed behind.
Not smiling anymore.
The elevator doors slid shut with a cold hiss.
Louis leaned back against the mirrored wall, loosening the tie around his neck like it had turned into a noose. The silence was jarring after the storm of voices in the boardroom,too clean, too still. His hands still trembled from the adrenaline, and his mind refused to settle.
Lestat.
He exhaled through his nose.
Of course it was Lestat.
It had always been him,standing just close enough to challenge, just far enough to hurt. And now here they were again, all grown up, circling each other in suits instead of schoolyards. But the dynamic hadn’t changed. Not really.
Lestat still had the power to undo him with a single glance.
Louis’s reflection stared back at him in the glass. Composed. Controlled. Everything he’d worked to become.
But today, for a moment, he’d cracked. That was dangerous.
When the elevator stopped on the fifteenth floor,the floor with the private offices,he hesitated. He should go home. Rest. Breathe. But instead, he walked the corridor and entered his father’s old office.
It hadn’t changed.
Books lined the wall in perfect order. Diplomas, framed contracts, photographs of company milestones,all still there, untouched like a shrine. Louis hadn’t had the heart to change anything since his father passed. Maybe part of him still wanted to prove something to the ghost of the man who’d built all this.
He sat at the desk and let himself breathe for the first time in hours.
The pitch had gone well. Better than expected, actually. He’d made strong points. He’d spoken with confidence. And yet…
Why did it still feel like he was losing?
He leaned forward, forehead resting against folded arms, the tension in his shoulders finally breaking through. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the hum of the air conditioner and the faint sounds of footsteps outside.
And then, a soft knock.
He didn’t lift his head. “Occupied.”
But the door opened anyway.
Of course.
“Do you ever listen when people say no?” Louis muttered without looking up.
“I didn’t come to argue.” Lestat’s voice was… quieter. Not smug. Not sharp. Just tired.
Louis lifted his head slowly. “Then why are you here?”
Lestat stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind him. He looked around,taking in the space like it meant something. Maybe it did. They’d both spent hours here once, as teenagers, under the watchful eye of Louis’s father. Back when everything had still felt like possibility.
“I thought I should apologize,” Lestat said after a moment.
Louis blinked. “You?”
“I know. Shocking.”
“What exactly are you apologizing for?” Louis asked, folding his arms.
Lestat walked to the bookshelf and ran a finger along one of the spines. “For the way I pushed. In the meeting. Outside it.”
Louis let out a dry laugh. “That’s not new.”
“No. But maybe I finally noticed how much it’s costing you.”
Louis looked at him then, really looked. Lestat wasn’t smiling. His posture wasn’t as relaxed as usual. And behind his eyes,something tired. Maybe even remorseful.
“I don’t want to fight like this anymore,” Lestat said.
Louis didn’t answer right away. Part of him wanted to believe that was true. Another part didn’t know if he could afford to.
“You made your proposal personal,” Louis finally said. “You always do. It’s never just business with you.”
“That’s because it’s not just business, Louis.”
Silence fell again. Heavy. Real.
Louis stood, walking to the window. The city stretched beneath them,tall buildings, blinking lights, people with lives that didn’t include generational rivalries or complicated histories.
“You know the board won’t choose both,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
“And after this, one of us walks away.”
“I know that too.”
Louis turned slightly. “So what happens if it’s me?”
Lestat’s expression shifted. Softer. Sadder. “Then I’ll hate it. But I’ll respect it.”
“And if it’s you?”
Lestat hesitated. “Then I hope you’ll still talk to me.”
That caught Louis off guard. Not because it was dramatic,but because it wasn’t. It was quiet. Honest. Unshielded.
And it terrified him.
“You think this ends with a conversation?” he asked, more bitter than he intended.
“I think it doesn’t have to end badly.”
Louis looked at him for a long moment, weighing every word, every breath between them.
Then he turned back to the window.
“I need time.”
Lestat nodded, already backing toward the door.
“I’ll wait.”
And he left.
Just like that.
No parting jab. No smug grin.
Just silence.
Louis stood alone in the office, the echo of the past and the future pressing in around him. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t know what came next.
The rain hadn’t stopped all night.
Louis had barely slept. His mind kept replaying the boardroom scene, every word, every pause, every look Lestat had thrown across the table like it meant something deeper than business.
He stood by the window of his apartment now, watching the gray morning bleed over the skyline. The city looked as tired as he felt.
The next day,his phone buzzed once. A message.
Meeting today. 9 AM sharp. Boardroom. Final decision.
No details. No names. Just that.
His fingers tightened around the phone. It was time.
When he arrived, the atmosphere in the office was heavier than usual. No one met his eyes as he passed. The receptionist gave him a tight, unreadable smile. Something was off.
The boardroom doors were open. Lestat was already inside, seated at the far end of the table. He looked… composed, as always. But not smug. Not today.
Louis took the seat across from him.
Silence settled between them, thick and unyielding.
“You didn’t bring coffee,” Lestat said suddenly.
Louis blinked. “What?”
“You always bring coffee on decision days. For yourself, and sometimes for me. When you’re pretending not to hate me.”
Louis almost smiled. Almost.
“Didn’t feel like pretending today.”
Lestat nodded once. “Fair enough.”
Before anything else could be said, the door opened and the board filed in. Twelve faces. All unreadable.
The chairman, a tall man with too-smooth hair and too-calm eyes, stood at the head of the table.
“Gentlemen,” he began. “Thank you for returning. We’ve reviewed both proposals extensively. As you know, this company can’t afford to split its direction. A decision had to be made.”
Louis held his breath.
Lestat sat perfectly still.
The chairman continued, “After careful deliberation, the board has chosen to proceed with the plan proposed by Mr. de Pointe du Lac.”
The words echoed.
For a moment, Louis didn’t quite process them. He just stared.
Then,slowly,his chest tightened, not with pride, but with disbelief. Relief. Anxiety. And something else. Something hollow.
Across from him, Lestat didn’t flinch. No flicker of emotion. No reaction. He simply nodded.
“Understood.”
The chairman nodded in return. “We’ll work with your teams to begin implementation next quarter. Mr. de Lioncourt, we thank you for your ideas. Your innovation will remain in consideration for future ventures.”
It was over.
Just like that.
Louis’s fingers curled slightly on the edge of the table. He expected to feel victorious. Instead, he felt… drained.
After a few more formalities, the board left,papers tucked under arms, voices low and polite. In less than five minutes, they were gone.
Only Louis and Lestat remained.
Silence again.
Louis stood first. He turned toward the door, needing air, needing space,anything but this room and its echo.
But before he could take another step, Lestat spoke.
“You deserved it.”
Louis paused. Slowly, he turned back.
Lestat was still seated, hands folded neatly.
“You fought for it,” Lestat continued. “You worked harder. You cared more. You deserved to win.”
Louis stared at him, heart still tight in his chest. “Why does that sound like a goodbye?”
“Because it is.”
That stopped him.
Lestat finally stood, smoothing his jacket, stepping closer,but not too close.
“The board made their choice. That was our last meeting. No more joint projects. No more forced collaborations.”
He said it like a fact. But there was something behind the words. A crack in the voice he didn’t show anyone.
“So that’s it?” Louis asked, voice low. “After everything?”
“I don’t want to fight anymore, Louis. And I don’t want to stand in your way.”
“And what if I never wanted you gone?”
That landed hard.
Lestat blinked once. Slowly. His jaw shifted.
“Then maybe,” he said, voice quieter now, “you should’ve said that before today.”
Louis swallowed hard. “Would it have changed anything?”
“I don’t know,” Lestat admitted. “But at least we wouldn’t be standing here pretending like this is only about business.”
A pause.
Then Louis said, barely audible, “It never was.”
Lestat gave a quiet, almost painful laugh. “Yeah. I know.”
The rain picked up again, faint against the windows.
Neither of them moved.
“You’re still going to be in the building,” Louis said finally.
“For a while. Then I’ll step back.”
Louis frowned. “Why?”
“Because you need the space to lead without my shadow behind you. And maybe… I need to figure out who I am without constantly chasing or fighting you.”
That stung. Not because it was cruel,but because it was true.
“I didn’t ask for this war,” Louis said.
“No,” Lestat agreed. “But neither of us tried very hard to stop it.”
Another long pause. This time it was Louis who broke it.
“Do you really think this is goodbye?”
Lestat looked at him,really looked.
“I think it’s the end of this chapter,” he said softly. “But maybe not the book.”
And then he walked past Louis, slowly, without another word.
No dramatics. No last smirk.
Just gone.
Louis stood there for a long time after the door closed.
He had everything he thought he wanted.
And he’d never felt emptier.
Louis stayed in the boardroom long after everyone left.
The rain was still falling outside, running down the tall windows in slow, blurry streaks. His reflection looked pale in the glass,like a stranger in a borrowed victory.
He should be celebrating. He should be calling his team. But instead, he just sat there, elbows on the table, palms pressed together in front of his mouth. Thinking.
Lestat’s words still echoed.
“Maybe not the book.”
He didn’t know what to do with that. Lestat had never said things like that. Not when they were kids, not when they became enemies, not when they pretended to be nothing.
And now that he had,Louis had no idea what to say back.
He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.
Maybe it really was the end.
But then, a knock.
Soft. Hesitant.
He opened his eyes.
The door creaked open.
It was the receptionist, holding a small envelope.
“This was left for you,” she said. “He asked me to give it to you after the meeting. Said it was personal.”
She placed it on the table and left.
Louis stared at it for a long time before reaching for it.
The envelope was blank. Plain.
Inside was a single folded piece of thick stationery. Handwritten.
It wasn’t long,just a few lines.
His eyes scanned the words once, then again, slower this time. His heart caught in his throat.
At the bottom was Lestat’s signature.
No flourish. No games.
Just L.
He read the note one more time, then leaned back in his chair, hand still holding the paper like it might burn through his skin.
The camera could have pulled back then, slowly, showing Louis alone in the cold, glossy room. Outside, the storm began to calm.
And in his hand, that note.
Four words:
“This wasn’t just rivalry.”
Notes:
Leave comments for ideas
I’m starting to run out
Should it be more romantic or more angst?
Chapter 4: Unfinished Business…
Chapter Text
Louis hadn’t expected to see Lestat again so soon.
The invitation had arrived late last night , a formal notice from the board: “Transition Meeting , Thursday Morning , 10:00 AM , West Conference Room.” No mention of who would be present. No mention of Lestat.
So, when Louis walked into the bright, glass-walled room and saw Lestat already seated at the table, arms crossed, gaze distant, his heart stuttered.
He almost turned around.
But it was too late. Lestat had seen him.
Their eyes met, briefly. No smirk this time. No wink. Just a quiet, unreadable look , then Lestat looked away.
Louis cleared his throat, forced his legs to move, and took a seat across the room, far enough to avoid eye contact, close enough to stay involved.
For a few minutes, they sat in silence, each pretending to review the folder in front of them.
It was unbearable.
Louis glanced up again. Lestat’s expression hadn’t changed, but there was something in his posture , too stiff, too tense. Like he was waiting for something.
Louis shifted in his seat.
He should say something. He didn’t even know what. But after everything , after the fight, the decision, the note , silence felt like cowardice.
Before he could open his mouth, Lestat broke it.
“You didn’t answer.”
Louis Blinked. “What?”
“The note. I left it. You read it. But you didn’t say anything.”
Louis hesitated. “I didn’t know what to say.”
Lestat finally looked at him again. “That’s not like you.”
Louis frowned. “You think you know what I’m like?”
“I used to.”
The room felt smaller suddenly, like the walls had crept in without them noticing.
Louis leaned back. “What do you want from me, Lestat?”
Lestat’s eyes flickered. “I don’t know. Honesty?”
Louis laughed once, dry. “You wouldn’t recognize it.”
That hurt landed , he saw it in the flicker of Lestat’s jaw, the way his fingers tightened around the pen in front of him.
“Is that what you really think?” Lestat asked, voice quieter now.
Louis didn’t answer right away.
“I think you’re good at pretending,” he said finally. “Good at acting like none of this matters.”
“It does matter.”
That came faster than Louis expected. Too fast.
Lestat stood, pacing a little toward the window. The light hit his profile , sharp jaw, tired eyes. Still beautiful. Still impossible.
“I didn’t come here to start anything,” he said after a moment. “The board asked me to be here. Some formality. Transition plans. I didn’t know you’d be here either.”
Louis stood too, if only to keep some balance in the room. “Then let’s just get through it. Professionally.”
“Sure,” Lestat said. Then, softer, “Except we’ve never been good at pretending we’re just professionals.”
Louis looked away. His fingers tapped the folder in his hands, trying to ground himself.
“You’re the one who walked away last time,” he murmured.
“And you’re the one who let me.”
Silence again.
Then the door opened.
Two men stepped in.
The first was tall and graceful, with dark, shoulder-length hair and a composed stillness that made the air around him feel colder. His eyes missed nothing , not the distance between Louis and Lestat, not the tension still hanging in the air.
The second man was older , late fifties, perhaps early sixties. His gray hair was neatly combed back, and his glasses sat low on his nose. He walked with a quiet confidence, a notebook tucked under one arm and a pen already in hand. His gaze moved across the room like a journalist preparing to dissect a story , and he looked like he’d already read half of it.
“Ah,” said the taller man. “We must be early.”
Lestat straightened. “No. You’re right on time.”
Louis frowned. “Who are…?”
“I’m Armand,” the tall one said. “And this is Daniel Molloy. We’ve been brought in to help with the restructuring process. External consultants, technically. But you’ll find we’re more… involved than most.”
Daniel gave a small nod, his voice low and even. “We’re here to observe. And advise.”
Louis Blinked. “I wasn’t told anyone else would be involved.”
“Last-minute decision,” Armand replied. “The board wanted a neutral presence. Someone who could oversee the implementation without bias.”
He looked between Louis and Lestat, and his expression suggested he already knew exactly what kind of bias they were trying to monitor.
Daniel set down his notebook and sat with a quiet sigh. “Looks like we’ve arrived at a… complicated time.”
Armand gave him a small glance, then took the seat beside him.
“Complicated is our specialty,” Daniel said calmly. Then, with a raised eyebrow toward Louis, “Are you always this quiet, or just with him in the room?”
Louis didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
Daniel was already scribbling something down, and the meeting hadn’t even started.
Lestat didn’t linger after the meeting ended. As soon as the last presentation slide faded and the board members started shuffling papers and politely excusing themselves, he slipped away from the conference table and into the hallway.
The overhead lights buzzed softly, casting a pale wash over the quiet corridor. He needed air. Or at least distance.
But Armand followed.
His steps were light, measured, but deliberate.
“You’re leaving without saying a word,” Armand said, his voice as calm as ever. “Not your usual style.”
Lestat didn’t look back. “Maybe I’m evolving.”
“You’re deflecting.”
Lestat stopped at the far end of the hallway and leaned against the window, one hand tucked into his pocket. “What do you want, Armand?”
“To talk,” Armand said simply.
Lestat gave a short, humorless laugh. “It’s been, what, five years since we worked together? And you still think I’m going to open up just because you ask nicely?”
Armand came to stand beside him, close but not too close. “I don’t expect you to open up. I expect you to think.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“For someone like you, yes.”
Lestat exhaled slowly, watching the reflection of the city in the glass. He could still see Louis’s expression from earlier , cool, guarded, but shaken. It had done something to him, twisted something inside he thought had long gone numb.
“He looked tired,” Lestat murmured.
Armand didn’t answer right away. Then: “He looked hurt.”
Lestat glanced at him. “You noticed too?”
Armand gave him a look. “I’m not blind. And neither is Daniel.”
Lestat scoffed. “Your journalist sees everything, doesn’t he?”
“My partner,” Armand corrected softly. “And yes. He does. Especially when people lie to themselves.”
Lestat turned to face him, arms crossed. “Is this a warning?”
“It’s a reminder.”
“Of what?”
Armand’s gaze held his, steady and unreadable. “That you don’t get to play with something fragile just because you miss the way it used to shine.”
Lestat flinched.
Armand didn’t press the wound. He never had to. That was what made him so effective , and so dangerous.
“You left things broken,” Armand continued. “Years ago. That was your choice. If you want to pick them up now, don’t do it just to see how they feel in your hands.”
Lestat swallowed hard. “It wasn’t all me.”
“I didn’t say it was. But you know how Louis is. He keeps everything buried until it burns through.”
There was a silence between them, long and heavy.
Finally, Lestat whispered, “It’s not over for me.”
“I know.”
Lestat looked up, surprised by the softness in Armand’s tone.
Armand shrugged lightly. “I’ve seen what love looks like when it’s buried under ego. Daniel and I didn’t get here because we were perfect. We got here because we stopped lying to ourselves.”
“Is this the part where I beg for redemption?”
“No. This is the part where you decide whether you want to be honest… or stay comfortable in the lie.”
Armand stepped back then, smoothing his sleeves.
He paused at the corner, glancing over his shoulder.
“You don’t need to move quickly, Lestat,” he said. “But you do need to move deliberately. Otherwise, someone else will move first.”
And with that, he disappeared down the corridor, leaving Lestat staring at the reflection in the glass , a man dressed in confidence, but unraveling quietly beneath the surface.
The meeting had ended hours ago, but Louis hadn’t moved from the garden terrace just outside the boardroom wing. The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows on the stone floor. A small breeze rustled the leaves, and for once, there was quiet.
He sat on the edge of the stone bench, arms resting loosely on his knees, staring into nothing.
“Beautiful view,” said a voice behind him.
Louis turned slightly, expecting a board member or assistant.
It was Daniel.
He looked different under the sunlight , softer, somehow. The harsh lines of age softened by warmth and something that resembled peace. His glasses were tucked into the front of his shirt, and he held two paper cups in his hand.
“I brought you coffee,” he said, offering one. “Well, more like a bribe. Thought you might not tell me anything unless I gave you something first.”
Louis hesitated, then took the cup. “Thanks.”
Daniel sat beside him, leaving a careful amount of space between them. “Not a lot of people stay behind after those meetings.”
Louis gave a dry smile. “Not a lot of people walk into meetings with their entire past sitting at the other end of the table.”
“Fair enough.”
A pause. Then Daniel added, “But it’s not just your past, is it?”
Louis didn’t respond.
Daniel took a sip of his drink and let the silence stretch before speaking again.
“You know,” he said, “when you’ve interviewed as many people as I have, you start to recognize certain looks. The way people sit, shift, glance across a room. Some try to hide what they’re thinking. Others don’t even know they’re showing it.”
Louis gave him a side glance. “And what do I look like?”
Daniel turned slightly to face him, thoughtful.
“You look like someone who wants to forget something he never stopped remembering.”
Louis exhaled. “You don’t waste time.”
“Not anymore. Perks of getting old.”
Louis looked down at his coffee. “And what do you think he wants?”
“Lestat?” Daniel asked. “I think he’s still trying to figure that out. But I also think he’s very aware you’re still watching him.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” Daniel said simply. “Even now.”
Louis tensed. He looked out over the terrace again, jaw tight.
“He left,” Louis muttered. “And when he came back, he acted like nothing ever happened.”
Daniel was quiet.
“I spent years cleaning up after what happened with our families,” Louis continued. “I did everything the right way. Played by the rules. Earned every inch. And he just walks in, smiling like a goddamn storm he doesn’t have to clean up after.”
Daniel tilted his head. “And yet you still looked for him today.”
Louis shot him a sharp look.
Daniel only smiled faintly. “You don’t have to answer. I already know.”
Silence again.
“Armand said I should keep my distance,” Daniel said after a while, tone gentler. “But I’ve never been good at that. Watching people walk around with everything they’re trying not to feel? It’s like watching a house slowly catch fire and pretending the heat is nothing.”
Louis’s grip tightened around the cup.
“I don’t know what he wants,” Louis admitted, his voice low. “But I know what I can’t afford. I can’t afford to fall into the same rhythm again. It was easier when we hated each other.”
Daniel looked at him for a long moment.
“You don’t hate him,” he said.
Louis didn’t deny it.
Instead, he whispered, “I wish I did.”
Daniel stood, brushing dust from his trousers.
“Well,” he said, “maybe the problem isn’t that you still feel something. Maybe the problem is you never let yourself figure out what it really was.”
He turned to leave, then paused.
“And Louis… for what it’s worth,” Daniel added, glancing back, “people don’t hold on that tightly to things they’re done with.”
With that, he disappeared around the garden wall, leaving Louis alone again , but somehow, not quite as alone as before.
The hallway outside the boardroom was empty.
Most of the executives had cleared out after the meeting. Armand and Daniel had disappeared without a word, leaving only their presence behind , like ghosts with sharp eyes and patient silence. Louis stood near the elevator, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes trained on the city lights visible through the tall glass windows.
He hadn’t expected to see Lestat again.
Not tonight.
But then , soft footsteps behind him.
He didn’t need to turn around.
“I thought you left,” Louis said without looking back.
“I didn’t feel like rushing,” came Lestat’s voice, low and smooth.
Louis turned slightly, enough to catch the reflection of Lestat in the glass. He was leaning casually against the opposite wall, arms crossed, watching him.
“You never do.”
A faint smile curved Lestat’s mouth. “I could say the same about you.”
Louis scoffed. “You don’t know anything about me anymore.”
“I know enough.”
Silence stretched between them again. Tense. Expectant.
Lestat took a step forward. “You didn’t tell them everything, did you?”
Louis narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“The board. The pitch today. You held back.”
Louis turned fully now. “You were watching me that closely?”
“You always speak with precision,” Lestat said, inching closer. “Today you spoke with hesitation. You were waiting to see what I’d say first.”
Louis’s jaw tensed. “Because I knew you’d try to steal the narrative.”
Lestat stepped forward again , not threatening, just… closer.
“I wasn’t trying to steal anything,” he said. “I was trying to see if you’d meet me halfway.”
Louis laughed bitterly. “Halfway? Is that what you call showing up late, speaking over me, and presenting ideas that undercut everything I’ve worked for?”
Lestat didn’t flinch. “You were always better than me at playing by the rules, Louis. But this…” He gestured between them. “This was never about the rules. This has always been about us.”
Louis Froze.
And that was it , the moment hung in the air between them, too real, too raw.
“You still think everything is about us,” Louis said, stepping back, “when all of this,this company, this board, these decisions,are bigger than whatever we used to be.”
“But we’re still part of it,” Lestat said. “And don’t lie to yourself. You still look at me like you used to.”
Louis’s chest tightened. “I look at you like I can’t trust you.”
“No,” Lestat said gently, “you look at me like you wish you could.”
Silence again. It wrapped around them like static.
Lestat moved closer, now just a few feet away. His voice softened.
“I saw you shaking before you spoke today.”
Louis’s eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t shaking.”
“You were,” Lestat said. “Just a little. You always fidget when you’re nervous. You used to do it before math tests in school.”
Louis’s breath caught. “Why do you remember that?”
Lestat’s expression shifted, a flicker of something deep , sadness? Longing?
“Because I watched you more than I ever admitted,” he said quietly. “And not just back then.”
Louis looked away, swallowing hard.
“I don’t want to do this,” he murmured.
“Then why are you still here?” Lestat asked.
Louis didn’t answer.
Lestat stepped forward , now they were close. Too close.
“I could lie and say I came back for the company,” Lestat whispered. “For legacy. For reputation. But the truth is, I came back because I never stopped thinking about what we left behind.”
Louis looked up, finally meeting his eyes.
And for the first time in a long time, he saw it , not the cocky smirk, not the boardroom confidence. Just Lestat. Unshielded.
The kind of vulnerability Louis hadn’t seen since they were kids.
“I hate you sometimes,” Louis whispered.
“I know,” Lestat said. “I hate me sometimes too.”
Their faces were inches apart now. Louis could feel the heat between them, the almost of it , like lightning before it touched the ground.
His hand twitched, as if to reach for Lestat.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stepped back.
And the space between them filled with everything unspoken.
“You should go,” Louis said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Lestat didn’t move. He looked at Louis for a long moment, eyes searching.
Then, finally, he nodded.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said softly.
Louis watched him leave.
The hallway felt colder once he was gone.
Armand’s apartment was peaceful, the kind of serene quiet that came from years of shared silence. Daniel sat on the couch, his legs stretched out, a glass of wine in his hand, though he wasn’t drinking much. Armand sat beside him, his eyes focused on the city skyline, lost in thought.
“You saw it too, didn’t you?” Daniel asked, breaking the silence.
Armand turned his head slowly, giving Daniel a faint smile. “You could say that.”
Daniel looked down at his wine, swirling it in the glass. “I’m surprised they haven’t torn each other apart yet.”
“They will,” Armand said, his voice low and steady. “But not the way you think. Not yet, at least.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Armand didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his gaze lingering on the reflection of the streetlights in the glass. “Louis and Lestat… They have unfinished business. It’s not just about the company. Not just about legacy. It’s about something deeper, something both of them are too afraid to confront.”
Daniel set his wine down, sitting up straight. “You really think so?”
Armand glanced at him, his expression soft but knowing. “I’ve seen it before. The way they look at each other. It’s not just animosity, Daniel. It’s… longing. Unspoken desire. They’re caught between what they’ve been and what they could be.”
Daniel’s fingers tapped on the armrest of the couch, processing the words. “I can’t imagine either of them letting their guard down enough for something like that to happen.”
Armand smiled slightly. “Oh, they will. It’s inevitable. They’re both too stubborn for their own good. But right now? They’re locked in a battle of wills, each trying to outmaneuver the other without ever really admitting what they feel.”
Daniel took a long breath, a faint sadness in his eyes. “It’s a dangerous game, Armand. They’re both playing with fire.”
Armand didn’t look away from the city lights. “And we’re all caught in the flames.”
There was a heavy silence as Daniel mulled over Armand’s words. He took another sip of wine, then leaned back into the couch, the weariness of the day finally catching up with him.
“You know,” Daniel said, after a long pause, “I never thought I’d see the day when I’d care about what happened between them. But I do. I don’t know why.”
Armand chuckled softly, glancing at Daniel. “Maybe it’s because you’re watching them make the same mistakes we did. Maybe it’s because you can see the consequences of what happens when you never let go of the past.”
Daniel nodded slowly, his gaze distant. “Maybe you’re right.”
The room fell into a quiet that was somehow comfortable, filled with the understanding that came from years of history between them. Armand and Daniel had both seen too much in their lifetimes, and yet, some things still managed to surprise them.
“Do you think they’ll ever get it right?” Daniel asked softly.
‘
Armand’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “They will. But it won’t be easy. It never is with people like them.”
“Do you think they’ll need help?” Daniel pressed, studying Armand’s face.
Armand turned to him, his gaze steady. “We can’t help them with this. They have to figure it out on their own.”
Daniel let the words settle between them before nodding, though the uncertainty still lingered in his eyes.
Armand placed a hand on his shoulder, a silent gesture of reassurance. “They’ll find their way. And when they do, it’ll be a battle worth watching.”
Daniel smiled faintly, but there was something more contemplative in his expression. “I hope they don’t burn the whole world down before then.”
Armand’s smile was small, but there was a quiet understanding in it. “Some fires are necessary.”
They sat in silence again, but this time, the weight of the conversation felt lighter. As if the air between them had shifted just a bit. There was something comforting about the unspoken bond they shared , something that allowed them to talk about the things that mattered, and the things that didn’t, with equal ease.
As the night wore on, the city outside continued its relentless hum, but inside, it was just the two of them. And for a moment, they allowed themselves to relax into the quiet, knowing that, for better or worse, the story unfolding before them was far from over.
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Chapter 5: A Mistake
Summary:
A little surprise
Chapter Text
The office was dark, save for the warm glow of the desk lamp and the soft hum of the city beyond the glass. Louis sat alone, shoulders tense, papers spread before him in unreadable layers. The meeting was hours past, but the echo of it clung to his skin like static.Lestat’s voice, his presence, the glances that had lasted too long.
Louis exhaled sharply and pushed the papers aside. He didn’t even know why he stayed.
He knew exactly why.
The door clicked open.
Louis didn’t need to look up. “You always do this.”
Lestat’s voice came from the doorway, quiet but unmistakable. “You always leave the light on.”
Louis stood, slow and tense. “Don’t.”
“I just came to—”
“I said don’t,” Louis snapped, finally turning to face him. “Not tonight.”
Lestat stepped into the room anyway, closing the door behind him. “You’ve been avoiding me since the board meeting.”
Louis let out a bitter laugh. “Avoiding you? I’ve been working. Something you don’t seem to understand.”
“I understand plenty,” Lestat said, walking closer. “I understand you’re angry. That you think I’m here to ruin everything. That every time I breathe near you, you take it personally.”
Louis’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not here to talk about the company.”
“No,” Lestat admitted. “I’m not.”
They stood in silence. The air was thick with unspoken words, half-buried wounds, and something else. Something fragile and dangerous.
Lestat’s voice softened. “You said I don’t know you anymore. That might be true. But you still know me. Don’t you?”
Louis’s jaw tensed. “That’s not fair.”
“I’m not here to be fair,” Lestat said, stepping closer. “I’m here because I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked at me today.”
Louis looked away, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re still running,” Lestat said. “Even now.”
Louis moved to step past him, but Lestat caught his wrist.
It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t forced.
It was gentle.
Still, Louis froze.
“Let me go,” he whispered.
Lestat’s fingers loosened. But he didn’t move away.
“I thought maybe,” Lestat said, his voice low, “if we were alone, without the noise, the eyes, the history between us thick as blood, maybe you’d stop pretending you don’t feel it too.”
Louis’s breath hitched. “There’s nothing to feel.”
“Then why are you shaking?”
Louis hadn’t noticed. But his fingers trembled, just slightly, beneath Lestat’s gaze.
He pulled his hand away, retreating a step, then another.
“I can’t do this,” he said.
Lestat followed. Not closing the distance all the way, just enough. “You already are.”
The room was too warm. Too quiet. The walls felt like they were watching.
Louis stood still, caught in the weight of everything. The past they shared, the rivalry they wore like armor, the closeness that had never fully vanished.
Lestat didn’t reach for him.
He waited.
And that waiting, so unlike him, was what undid Louis.
One moment passed. Then another.
Then Louis moved.
Not a decision, but a reaction.
He stepped forward and kissed him.
It wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t delicate.
It was desperate.
Lestat responded instantly, hands curling at Louis’s waist, pulling him closer, grounding him in a moment that felt too fragile to be real. The kiss deepened, full of the years they’d lost, the bitterness they’d swallowed, the fire they never managed to kill.
But then—
Louis pulled back.
He stumbled, breath ragged, eyes wide with panic.
“No. No,” he said, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to—”
Lestat tried to reach for him again. “Louis—”
But Louis stepped away like he’d touched flame.
“I have to go,” he muttered.
“Don’t run.”
“I have to go,” Louis repeated, louder this time. Shame burned through him like acid. “This was a mistake.”
Lestat’s expression changed. Not hurt, not angry, just quiet.
Louis didn’t wait for him to speak.
He grabbed his coat and left, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click.
And in the empty silence of the office, Lestat stood alone, hands still open, like he hadn’t quite caught something he’d been reaching for.
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Chapter 6: Underneath It All
Summary:
They show more their love then Louis and lestat😝
Chapter Text
The rain had been falling since late afternoon, casting a soft rhythm against the windows of Daniel’s apartment. It was an elegant space, minimalist but lived-in, with shelves heavy with books and an open fire warming the room in a golden glow.
Armand sat curled into one end of the long leather sofa, his bare feet tucked under him, a thick knit sweater hanging loosely over his narrow frame. He looked comfortable, serene even, as he read, one hand absentmindedly stroking the spines of the pages.
Daniel watched him from the kitchen.
There was something dangerous about quiet moments like this. Armand looked untouchable, almost fragile in the firelight, like a painting that might crumble if handled too roughly. And yet Daniel knew the truth underneath all that stillness , the stubbornness, the bite, the way Armand’s body gave in only when he chose to.
Daniel leaned against the counter, pretending to finish his coffee, but really he was just watching. Letting the slow burn of it settle into his chest. He could feel it already tonight , the tension, low and steady, just waiting.
“You’re staring,” Armand said without looking up.
“You’re beautiful,” Daniel answered, setting his mug down.
Armand turned a page, lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Flattery? At your age?”
Daniel crossed the room slowly. “It’s not flattery if it’s true.”
He sat down on the other end of the couch, letting the heat between them bridge the distance. For a long minute, neither of them spoke. The rain kept falling. The fire crackled and shifted.
Daniel rested his arm along the back of the sofa, his fingers just brushing the soft fabric of Armand’s sweater.
“You’ve been restless lately,” Armand said.
“You noticed?”
“I always notice,” Armand replied, finally closing the book and setting it aside. His dark eyes turned fully to Daniel, searching him. “You get that look when you’re trying not to ask for something.”
Daniel chuckled, low and rough. “Maybe I’m just being polite.”
Armand shifted, unfolding his legs, the movement slow and deliberate. “Since when has that ever stopped you?”
There was a challenge in his voice now, quiet but clear. An invitation if Daniel wanted to take it.
Daniel let the silence stretch, feeling the weight of it. He looked at Armand , really looked , the way the firelight caught the curve of his throat, the delicate strength of his wrists where they rested against his thighs, the way his mouth softened when he wasn’t guarding himself.
He wanted to touch him. To push past the careful stillness Armand wore like armor.
And he would.
Just not yet.
Daniel smiled, slow and dangerous. “Maybe you’re the one who’s restless.”
Armand tilted his head slightly, considering. “Maybe I am.”
For a second, the air between them hummed, heavy and electric.
Daniel’s hand moved, brushing lightly against Armand’s wrist. He felt the faint jump of a pulse there, fast and real beneath the cool skin.
“You’re playing with fire,” Daniel said, voice low.
“I don’t mind getting burned,” Armand answered.
That was all the permission Daniel needed.
But he still didn’t move too fast. He leaned in a little, giving Armand the chance to pull away if he wanted to.
He didn’t.
Instead, Armand’s fingers curled into the fabric of Daniel’s shirt, just enough to anchor him there.
Daniel kissed him softly at first, tasting the tension that lived under Armand’s skin, the restraint he wore like a second soul. Armand kissed him back, unhurried but certain, a slow ignition that promised far more than just this.
When Daniel deepened the kiss, Armand let him. When Daniel’s hand slid up his thigh, Armand parted his legs without hesitation.
Still, there was patience in it. Not the patience of someone yielding , the patience of someone waiting to be claimed.
Daniel pulled back just enough to see Armand’s face. His cheeks were faintly flushed, his lips kissed-red, his chest rising and falling a little faster.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Daniel murmured.
Armand’s mouth curved into a dangerous smile. “Then die well.”
Daniel growled low in his throat and crushed their mouths together again, unable and unwilling to pretend anymore that this slow burn hadn’t been building between them for weeks, months, years.
It was going to be a long night.
And Daniel planned to make sure Armand felt every second of it.
The taste of Armand lingered on Daniel’s lips , addictive, dark, a little defiant. He leaned back just slightly, enough to study Armand’s face again.
The fire crackled. Rain smudged itself across the windows.
The whole world outside could have vanished, and Daniel wouldn’t have cared.
There was only this: Armand sitting there, breathing fast, pupils dilated, sweater slipping a little off one slim shoulder.
“You think you’re in control here, don’t you?” Daniel said, voice low.
Armand tilted his head, amused. “Aren’t I?”
Daniel smiled , slow, dangerous. He loved this part of him, the sharp edge beneath the beauty. But he loved breaking it even more.
“You want me to believe that,” Daniel said, voice darkening as he let his fingers trail higher up Armand’s thigh. “But you gave yourself away the second you let me kiss you.”
Armand didn’t flinch. He never did.
He met Daniel’s gaze, level and unblinking, even as Daniel’s hand slid boldly to the inside of his thigh.
“You’re assuming I didn’t plan that,” Armand said.
Daniel’s grip tightened just slightly. Just enough to make Armand inhale sharply.
“And you’re assuming you’re still the one making plans,” Daniel murmured.
For a beat, they stayed like that , locked together by nothing more than sheer willpower, the line between surrender and dominance stretched razor-thin.
Daniel shifted his weight, moving in, crowding Armand back into the corner of the couch. His other hand braced beside Armand’s head, caging him in.
Still, Armand didn’t look away.
“How far are you willing to push me tonight?” Daniel asked.
“As far as you can handle,” Armand answered, almost a whisper.
“Daniel’s body tensed at the challenge. God, he wanted him. Wanted to see him stripped of every careful word, every elegant defense.
“You have no idea what you’re inviting,” Daniel said.
“Teach me,” Armand said simply.
“It was the kind of answer that set fire to the blood.
Daniel leaned in, brushing his mouth lightly over the corner of Armand’s lips, not quite a kiss , a taunt. His fingers moved higher, skimming along the delicate edge of Armand’s waistband, feeling the heat of him, the faint tremor under the bravado.
“You want to be undone, don’t you?” Daniel whispered against his skin.
Armand gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
It would have been easy to miss if Daniel wasn’t watching him so closely, hungering for every small give, every tiny break in control.
Daniel kissed him again, harder this time, a claiming.
Armand responded with a soft, desperate noise that only made Daniel press closer, threading a hand through Armand’s thick auburn hair and tugging just enough to bare his throat.
Armand gasped, his hands clutching Daniel’s shirt, grounding himself.
Daniel’s mouth trailed down his neck, biting lightly, savoring the faint arch of Armand’s body toward him.
“You like that,” Daniel said against his skin, almost laughing at how fast Armand’s defenses were crumbling.
“Maybe,” Armand managed, but his voice was wrecked already, trembling.
Daniel pulled back enough to see him , cheeks flushed, sweater slipping further off one shoulder, lips swollen, hair a mess from Daniel’s fingers.
“You’re beautiful when you let go,” Daniel said softly.
And then, with a darker edge:
“And you’re going to let go for me tonight. All the way.”
Armand shivered visibly.
Daniel didn’t give him the time to think about it.
He shifted, pulling Armand fully into his lap, one strong hand sliding under the loose sweater to splay against Armand’s bare back. Skin on skin, searing hot.
Armand’s legs instinctively curled around Daniel’s waist, his arms looping around his shoulders.
He was so light, so dangerously easy to move, to manipulate , and yet Daniel felt the tension coiled inside him, like a wire ready to snap.
“You trust me?” Daniel asked, voice a low rumble against Armand’s ear.
Armand’s breath hitched.
“Yes,” he said. No hesitation.
That was all Daniel needed.
In one swift, fluid motion, Daniel rose from the couch, carrying Armand effortlessly. Armand gave a soft, startled sound but didn’t fight him , instead tightening his grip around Daniel’s neck, burying his face against Daniel’s throat.
Daniel carried him toward the bedroom, ignoring the trail of clothes they left behind , Armand’s sweater tugged off and thrown aside, Daniel’s shirt discarded half-unbuttoned.
By the time they reached the bed, Armand was trembling slightly, whether from anticipation or nerves or both.
Daniel set him down carefully on the mattress, stepping back just enough to take him in.
Armand, breathless, flushed, hair falling into his eyes, bare-chested and vulnerable , but still meeting Daniel’s gaze without flinching.
Still daring him.
Daniel stripped off the rest of his clothes with slow, deliberate movements, watching Armand watch him.
The air between them practically vibrated with tension, hotter than the fire still crackling in the other room.
“You’re still thinking you have some control,” Daniel said softly, approaching the bed.
Armand smiled , small, secretive.
Daniel climbed onto the mattress, caging Armand under him with his arms, their bodies almost but not quite touching.
“Let me make it very clear,” Daniel whispered against his mouth. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
And then he kissed him , a brutal, consuming kiss that stole the air from both of them.
Armand arched up against him, gasping, and Daniel caught his wrists easily, pinning them to the bed above his head.
Armand’s back bowed, offering himself up without shame now, his body shivering under Daniel’s hands.
Daniel kissed his way down Armand’s chest, biting along the delicate curve of his ribs, marking him.
Armand whimpered , not in pain, but in desperate, aching need , and Daniel felt it like a lightning strike through his own body.
“You don’t get to hide from me,” Daniel said, voice raw. “Not tonight.”
Armand’s only answer was a low, broken moan as Daniel’s mouth continued downward.
Daniel grinned against his skin.
He hadn’t even started yet.
Daniel kissed Armand with bruising force, pinning his wrists harder into the mattress, making sure Armand knew exactly who was in control.
Armand trembled under him, gasping into Daniel’s mouth, his thighs instinctively parting to make room for him.
Daniel broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down Armand’s throat, biting hard enough to leave a mark.
Armand gasped and arched his back, surrendering completely without a single word.
His body told Daniel everything he needed to know: he needed this, he wanted this , the control taken away from him, piece by piece.
“You’re beautiful like this,” Daniel muttered against Armand’s flushed skin, dragging his teeth along the sharp line of his jaw.
“So goddamn beautiful when you stop pretending.”
Armand’s only answer was a shaky breath, a low moan when Daniel’s mouth found his chest, sucking a red mark just above his heart.
Daniel let go of Armand’s wrists briefly, only to grab his hips and flip him onto his stomach, manhandling him roughly but carefully.
Armand made a startled sound, half a gasp, half a whimper.
But he didn’t resist , he only shivered under Daniel’s hands, his body pliant, willing.
Daniel dragged his hands down Armand’s sides, savoring every inch of exposed skin, every shiver and twitch of muscle.
He pressed kisses down Armand’s spine, slow and deliberate, before finally biting at the soft skin just above the curve of his ass.
Armand gasped again, pressing his forehead into the pillow, fingers curling into the sheets.
Daniel leaned down, voice low and rough against Armand’s ear.
“You’re mine tonight,” he whispered. “Say it.”
Armand’s breath hitched , but after a few seconds, voice breaking, he whispered back, “I’m yours.”
That was it.
That was all Daniel needed.
He grabbed the lube from the bedside drawer, slicking his fingers quickly.
He wasn’t cruel , he knew Armand could handle rough, but he wouldn’t hurt him. Not more than what Armand wanted.
Daniel kissed between Armand’s shoulder blades, soothing him briefly, before pressing a finger inside.
Armand let out a low, guttural sound, his hips jerking slightly, but Daniel placed a firm hand on his lower back, keeping him still.
“Easy,” Daniel murmured. “I’ve got you.”
He worked him open slowly, thoroughly, adding another finger, then another, stretching him carefully even as Armand whimpered and gasped beneath him.
“You’re doing so good,” Daniel whispered, kissing his nape. “Taking everything I give you.”
Armand turned his head slightly, his cheeks flushed dark, his eyes glassy.
“Daniel…” he gasped, and there was a desperate plea in his voice that undid something deep in Daniel’s chest.
He kissed Armand’s shoulder, breathing hard, forcing himself to stay patient.
Finally, when he was sure Armand was ready, he coated himself quickly, lining up, his hands firm on Armand’s hips.
“You still want this?” Daniel asked, voice hoarse.
Armand pushed back slightly against him in answer, a clear, wordless yes.
Daniel didn’t hesitate.
He pressed in slowly, savoring every inch of resistance, every tiny sound Armand made , until he was fully seated inside him, buried to the hilt.
Armand cried out softly, the sound muffled by the pillow, but Daniel didn’t move right away.
He leaned over Armand’s back, wrapping one arm around his waist to hold him steady, kissing his spine.
“You’re doing perfect,” Daniel murmured, voice trembling with restraint.
He waited until Armand’s breathing evened out, until he felt him relax just slightly under him.
Then , only then , did Daniel start to move.
Slow at first, deep, rolling thrusts that made Armand gasp and claw at the sheets.
Daniel set a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving small broken sounds from Armand’s lips.
He kept a hand around Armand’s waist, grounding him, while his other hand moved to Armand’s throat, not squeezing, just resting there , a silent reminder of the control he had, of the trust Armand had given him.
“You’re mine,” Daniel growled again, thrusting harder. “Only mine.”
Armand whimpered, nodding desperately, tears pricking the corners of his eyes from the sheer overwhelming sensation.
Daniel kissed the side of his face, still thrusting deep and hard, his own control starting to unravel.
“Look at you,” Daniel whispered. “You’re fucking perfect.”
Armand sobbed out a laugh, wrecked and helpless under him.
Daniel shifted slightly, changing the angle , and Armand screamed, his whole body convulsing as Daniel hit that spot inside him, the one that made him see stars.
“There it is,” Daniel said, smiling darkly.
He angled his thrusts mercilessly now, slamming into that spot over and over until Armand was trembling violently, barely able to hold himself up.
Daniel leaned closer, mouth hot against his ear.
“You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmured.
Armand nodded frantically, incoherent.
“You’re not allowed to come until I say,” Daniel said, slowing down just enough to make Armand sob with frustration.
Armand whimpered, burying his face into the pillow.
Daniel smiled against his neck, savoring the way Armand writhed under him, desperate for more, for release.
“Beg for it,” Daniel whispered.
It took a few broken, gasping breaths before Armand managed it.
“Please, Daniel,” he choked out. “Please, let me…”
Daniel growled low in his throat, thrusting hard again, making Armand cry out.
“That’s it,” Daniel said. “Good boy.”
He reached around to stroke Armand’s cock, timed perfectly with his thrusts.
“You can come now,” Daniel whispered.
Armand shattered in his arms.
He came with a hoarse, broken cry, his whole body locking up and trembling as Daniel kept moving, drawing it out until Armand collapsed completely into the sheets, spent and shaking.
The tight clench of his body around Daniel was too much , with a strangled groan, Daniel followed him over the edge, burying himself deep one last time as he came hard inside him.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Only the sounds of their harsh breathing filled the room.
Finally, Daniel pulled out carefully, kissing Armand’s shoulder as he did, murmuring soft words against his skin.
He collapsed beside him, pulling Armand into his arms immediately, holding him close.
Armand curled into him without hesitation, still shaking slightly.
Daniel stroked his hair, kissed his forehead, whispered into his ear:
“You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Armand gave a small, exhausted laugh, burying his face into Daniel’s chest.
“I know,” he whispered back.
They stayed like that for a long time , tangled together, the rain tapping softly at the windows, the fire still burning low in the other room.
No more pretending.
No more walls between them.
Just this: raw, real, and utterly theirs.
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Chapter 7: Undeniable
Chapter Text
The days after the kiss blurred into one another, heavy with a silence Louis couldn’t seem to escape.
He avoided Lestat like his life depended on it.
Meetings were shifted. Conversations were ended early. Whenever Lestat entered a room, Louis found a reason , any reason , to leave. His heart hammered painfully against his ribs whenever he caught a glimpse of blond hair in the corner of his vision. His skin burned when he heard Lestat’s voice, rich and lazy, throwing casual greetings that Louis refused to return.
It was childish. It was pathetic.
But it was all Louis could do.
He buried himself in paperwork, drowning in reports and numbers he barely registered, willing himself to forget.
Forget the way Lestat’s mouth had felt on his.
Forget the way Lestat had pulled him closer, as if Louis belonged there, in his arms.
Forget how, for one terrible, wonderful moment, Louis had wanted to stay.
He couldn’t let it happen again.
He wouldn’t.
And yet… Every day, it got harder to pretend.
Louis sat stiffly at the long conference table, eyes locked on the document in front of him, pretending to read it. Across the room, he could feel Lestat’s presence , a heavy, bright thing, without even looking.
He knew Lestat was watching him. He always was lately.
Louis kept his face blank, his body still, willing himself not to react. He didn’t even risk glancing up when he felt Lestat shift, folding his arms casually as he leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him like he owned the room.
Of course he looked relaxed. Of course he looked like nothing was wrong.
Louis’s nails dug into the wood under the table.
“Louis?” someone called , a junior manager, oblivious. “Could you give your opinion on the projected numbers for next quarter?”
Louis startled slightly, cheeks burning as he realized he hadn’t been listening at all.
Clearing his throat, he muttered something vague about reviewing the data further before making a recommendation. It seemed to satisfy them. Conversation moved on.
Louis risked a glance toward Lestat.
Lestat was smiling. Not the smug, mocking smile Louis remembered from when they were boys.
No, this one was something different , softer. Sadder.
And somehow that smile made Louis’s chest ache in a way he couldn’t explain.
He looked away immediately, furious with himself.
He needed distance. He needed control.
But control was impossible with Lestat in the room.
Later that afternoon, Louis fled to his office, locking the door behind him and sagging against it.
He closed his eyes, taking deep, shaky breaths.
He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be around Lestat without feeling… everything.
It wasn’t just anger.
It wasn’t just resentment.
It was longing too.
It was the memory of friendship, of shared laughter, of dreams whispered in the dark when they were young and stupid and thought the world belonged to them.
And it was the memory of Lestat’s lips on his , warm and demanding, full of all the years they had lost and all the things they had never dared to say.
Louis pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until colors danced behind his lids.
He would not give in again.
He would not.
He needed to be smarter. He needed to be stronger.
He would freeze Lestat out if he had to. He would make himself numb.
It was the only way to survive.
Louis knew it was only a matter of time before Lestat stopped pretending to play fair.
The next day, when Louis arrived at the elevator, briefcase in hand and heart already pounding, Lestat was there , leaning casually against the wall, scrolling on his phone like he had nowhere else in the world to be.
Louis stiffened. He considered taking the stairs.
But Lestat glanced up at exactly that moment, eyes lighting up like he’d been waiting just for him.
Louis had no choice but to step inside.
The elevator doors closed with a soft hiss. The space between them was too small, too warm. Louis kept his gaze fixed stubbornly ahead, pretending Lestat wasn’t standing close enough that their arms brushed every time the elevator jolted.
For a few blessed seconds, there was silence.
Then, Lestat spoke , low and smooth. “You’re avoiding me, mon cœur.”
Louis’s hands tightened around the strap of his briefcase. “I’m busy,” he said shortly.
Lestat hummed, amused. “Busy avoiding me.”
Louis didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat felt too tight.
Lestat shifted closer. Not touching, not yet , but close enough that Louis could feel the heat radiating off him.
“You know,” Lestat said lightly, “if you wanted another kiss, you only had to ask.”
Louis snapped his head toward him, eyes blazing. “Shut up.”
Lestat smiled , a little victorious, a little tender. “There you are,” he murmured. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten how to speak to me.”
The elevator dinged.
Louis fled out the doors without another word, heart hammering against his ribs, ears burning.
It didn’t stop there.
Over the next few days, Lestat made it his mission to break through Louis’s defenses.
Small, relentless things:
• Bringing Louis his coffee, casually brushing their fingers together during the hand-off.
• Dropping by his office under flimsy pretexts: “I thought you might need help with that report.”
• Sending him quick, teasing emails , a wink hidden in every word.
At first, Louis ignored everything.
But Lestat was persistent. He didn’t push too hard , didn’t corner him physically , but he was there, always, always there, like gravity.
And slowly, began to crack his considerable armor.
One afternoon, Louis was gathering his papers after a meeting when Lestat leaned over his shoulder, voice low enough that only Louis could hear.
“You don’t have to pretend, you know,” Lestat murmured, his breath brushing against Louis’s ear.
“I felt it too.”
Louis froze. His fingers trembled slightly around the folder he clutched.
He wanted to deny it.
He wanted to shove Lestat away.
He wanted to grab him and kiss him again.
Instead, he pulled back sharply, ignoring the way his heart thundered.
“I have work to do,” he said coldly, walking away without another glance.
Behind him, he heard Lestat chuckle , not cruel, not mocking , just… fond.
It scared Louis more than anything.
Because he didn’t know how much longer he could keep walking away.
That night, Louis sat alone in his apartment, a half-empty glass of whiskey sweating on the table beside him.
He stared blankly out the window at the city lights, mind replaying every moment with Lestat, every look, every touch, every word.
He could still feel Lestat’s eyes on him.
He could still feel the ghost of a touch that hadn’t even happened.
Louis pressed a hand over his mouth, willing the sensation away.
He was losing this battle.
And deep down, he didn’t know if he wanted to win.
Louis realized he was doomed the second he saw the schedule for the day.
Strategic Planning Session , mandatory for department heads.
Location: Conference Room B.
Facilitators: Louis de Pointe du Lac and Lestat de Lioncourt.
He stared at the words like they personally offended him.
There was no escaping it.
No running. No hiding. No locking himself in his office and pretending to be busy.
Today, he would be trapped in a room with Lestat for hours.
Louis rubbed his hands over his face and sighed heavily.
Just get through it, he told himself.
Stay professional. Stay cold.
He could do this.
He had to.
The room was large, but somehow it felt suffocatingly small as they gathered around the table.
Only a few other managers were present , secondary department heads and assistants , people who would mostly stay quiet while Louis and Lestat led the discussion.
Louis sat rigidly in his chair, not looking at the empty seat beside him, heart pounding harder with every passing minute.
Then Lestat arrived.
He strolled in like he owned the place, carrying a folder under one arm and a coffee in the other, his tie slightly loose, his hair tousled just enough to look effortless and infuriatingly perfect.
He flashed a bright, lazy smile to the room , and then his eyes locked onto Louis.
Louis stared straight ahead, refusing to react, even as he felt the weight of that gaze settle on him like a hand he couldn’t shake off.
Lestat took the seat beside him.
Close. Too close.
Their chairs brushed. Louis stiffened so hard he almost knocked his coffee over.
Lestat leaned back, stretching his long legs under the table until his knee bumped Louis’s.
Louis jerked away immediately, shooting him a furious glance.
Lestat only smiled wider , a slow, knowing smile that made Louis’s blood burn.
“Good morning,” Lestat murmured, just loud enough for Louis to hear.
Louis gritted his teeth. “Let’s get started.”
The meeting was torture.
Every time Louis tried to focus on the presentation slides, he felt Lestat’s presence like a second heartbeat beside him.
Every time he tried to speak, he caught Lestat’s gaze , open, challenging, amused.
Whenever they discussed a project, Lestat would “accidentally” lean close, murmuring comments into Louis’s ear, his breath warm against his skin.
At one point, while Louis was gesturing toward a budget breakdown, Lestat’s hand brushed against his , lightly, deliberately , and Louis nearly dropped his pointer.
He hated how easily Lestat could undo him.
He hated that he still wanted more.
By the third hour, Louis was ready to scream.
They dismissed the others for a lunch break, agreeing to reconvene in an hour. The assistants and managers filed out, chatting quietly , leaving only Louis and Lestat alone.
Louis busied himself gathering papers, refusing to look up.
He heard Lestat stand, heard the quiet click of his shoes against the floor , and then suddenly, Lestat was in front of him, leaning casually against the table.
Blocking his escape.
Louis tensed, clutching his folder like a shield.
“Still avoiding me,” Lestat said softly.
Louis didn’t answer.
Lestat tilted his head, studying him with maddening patience.
“You can’t keep running forever, you know.”
“I’m not running,” Louis said sharply.
Lestat smiled , slow and dangerous.
“No? Then why are you shaking?”
Louis hadn’t even realized his hands were trembling.
He dropped the folder onto the table, trying to steady himself, trying to will his heart to slow.
Lestat stepped closer.
Louis backed away instinctively , until he felt the cold wall against his back.
Trapped.
He swallowed hard, every nerve on fire.
“Lestat,” he warned.
But Lestat didn’t touch him.
He just stood there, so close Louis could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, could smell the faint scent of his cologne , clean, sharp, Lestat.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Lestat said quietly.
“I’m not here to make you do anything you don’t want.”
Louis opened his mouth , to argue, to yell, to say something , but no sound came out.
He hated this.
He hated the way Lestat could see through him, right down to the raw, aching parts he tried so hard to hide.
He hated that some foolish, broken part of him didn’t want to push Lestat away.
He wanted to pull him closer.
And he couldn’t let himself.
With a strangled sound, Louis ducked under Lestat’s arm and fled the room , again.
But this time, Lestat didn’t laugh.
He just watched him go, his own heart breaking in his eyes.
Louis didn’t know why he ended up in the rooftop garden.
Maybe it was instinct , running to the only place in the building where he could breathe.
Maybe it was foolishness , thinking he could hide.
The city stretched out in front of him, glittering and cold, a million lights blinking against the twilight sky.
The wind tugged at his shirt, cool against his overheated skin.
Louis leaned against the railing, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white.
He needed to calm down.
He needed to forget the way Lestat looked at him, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.
He heard footsteps behind him and stiffened.
He didn’t have to turn around to know it was Lestat.
“Louis,” Lestat said, his voice low and rough.
Louis squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay silent, to stay strong.
But Lestat came closer , not rushing, not forcing , just stepping into Louis’s orbit with the
same inevitable pull as gravity.
“Talk to me,” Lestat said.
Louis shook his head.
“I can’t,” he rasped.
“I can’t do this with you.”
“Why not?”
Louis let out a bitter laugh. “Because you’re dangerous. Because you’re selfish. Because you don’t know how to care about anything except yourself.”
Lestat flinched , just slightly , but didn’t back away.
“And yet,” he said softly, “you kissed me.”
Louis turned on him then, anger flaring hot and wild.
“I was stupid! It meant nothing!”
“Did it?” Lestat asked, stepping closer still.
Louis backed up until his spine hit the wall behind him.
Lestat trapped him there without touching him , his hands planted on either side of Louis’s head, his body a living barrier.
“I don’t believe you,” Lestat said simply.
Louis’s chest heaved.
“You should,” he whispered.
But Lestat only looked at him , truly looked at him , and Louis felt himself unraveling.
“You want me,” Lestat said, voice gentle, not arrogant.
“I know you do.”
Louis shook his head helplessly, but tears stung the back of his eyes.
Because it was true.
Because it had always been true.
“You make everything worse,” Louis whispered.
Lestat smiled , a sad, broken smile.
“Maybe. But you still want me.”
Louis squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, trying to breathe.
He didn’t notice Lestat moving until it was too late.
Until Lestat’s hand was cupping his face , tentative, trembling , like he thought Louis might shatter under his touch.
“Tell me to stop,” Lestat whispered.
“I’ll stop. I swear.”
Louis opened his mouth , but no words came out.
He looked at Lestat , saw the raw hope, the desperate fear, the terrible love in his eyes , and his own resolve cracked.
Lestat kissed him like he was afraid he would never get another chance.
Louis kissed him like he was drowning.
It was too much.
It was everything.
Louis opened his mouth , to argue, to lie, to tell Lestat to leave , but the words dissolved on his tongue.
He surged forward and kissed him.
It wasn’t careful.
It wasn’t pretty.
It was messy, frantic, hungry , months, years of buried longing exploding all at once.
Lestat made a soft, desperate noise in the back of his throat and kissed him back just as fiercely.
Their bodies slammed together , mouths bruising, hands clawing for purchase, years of resentment and heartbreak and need burning between them.
Louis shoved Lestat back against the wall, teeth scraping over his bottom lip, hands fisting in his shirt like he wanted to tear him apart.
Lestat gasped into his mouth, clutching Louis’s hips, pulling him closer, closer, until there was no space left between them.
It should have been furious.
It should have been hateful.
But somehow, it was tender too , unbearably so.
Lestat kissed him like he was afraid he would never get another chance.
Louis kissed him like he was drowning.
The rooftop spun around them , the world outside forgotten , nothing existing except the desperate press of lips and bodies.
Louis’s hands slid up into Lestat’s hair, tugging, anchoring himself as their kiss deepened, rougher, needier, unstoppable.
Neither of them pulled away.
Neither of them wanted to.
They clung to each other like drowning men, the kiss breaking and reforming in ragged, breathless gasps, too much and not enough all at once.
Notes:
Leave comments and suggestions if you want
Chapter 8: A Mistake ?
Chapter Text
Louis kissed Lestat like he was starving , like the years of bitterness and longing had finally broken free from the tight cage he’d built around his heart.
Their mouths clashed again and again, messy and desperate, until Louis could barely breathe.
He didn’t care.
He just needed more.
More of Lestat.
More of this.
Lestat’s hands roamed over him without hesitation , rough palms mapping Louis’s chest, his waist, the small of his back , pulling him tighter against him as if trying to fuse their bodies together.
Louis gasped into the kiss, feeling Lestat’s fingers slip beneath his shirt, fingertips burning against bare skin.
He shivered but didn’t pull away.
“Louis,” Lestat murmured against his lips, voice wrecked and trembling. “Tell me to stop if you want me to.”
Louis didn’t answer.
He kissed him harder instead.
It was Lestat who finally broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against Louis’s and breathing hard.
He stared into Louis’s eyes, searching for hesitation , for regret.
There was none.
Only wild, messy want.
Their bodies moved before their minds could catch up . Louis tugging Lestat’s jacket off his shoulders, Lestat yanking Louis’s shirt up and over his head, letting it fall somewhere onto the cold concrete floor.
The night air kissed Louis’s heated skin, making him shudder, but Lestat’s touch was even hotter , palms flattening against Louis’s bare chest, thumbs brushing over his nipples in slow, deliberate circles.
Louis moaned , low and guttural , and clutched at Lestat’s shoulders like he was afraid he might collapse.
They stumbled backward toward the wall, lips never parting for long, hands frantic and clumsy, desperate to touch more, feel more, erase the distance that had always existed between them.
Louis barely noticed when Lestat pressed him back against the cold stone wall of the rooftop, caging him in with his body.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Lestat rasped, mouth trailing down Louis’s throat, sucking a mark just above the collarbone that made Louis whimper helplessly.
Louis tangled his fingers in Lestat’s hair, tugging hard enough to make Lestat groan.
He didn’t care if anyone saw them.
He didn’t care about anything except the way Lestat’s hands and mouth made him feel , alive and ruined all at once.
Lestat kissed down his chest, biting and licking, leaving a trail of red blooming against Louis’s pale skin.
Every touch was electric , a live wire straight to his heart, his core.
Louis could feel himself trembling.
He hated how much he needed this.
How much he needed him.
“Please,” he heard himself whisper.
Lestat stilled, lifting his head to meet Louis’s gaze.
Louis’s cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen, his eyes dark with want.
“Please what, mon cœur?” Lestat asked, voice rough.
Louis swallowed hard. His pride was crumbling fast.
He didn’t have the words.
Instead, he reached down between them, finding the hard line of Lestat’s cock through his slacks, pressing against it.
Lestat cursed under his breath, hips jerking forward involuntarily.
Louis smiled against his throat, triumphant for one sweet second , and then Lestat was kissing him again, brutal and consuming, like he was trying to brand Louis from the inside out.
They wrestled each other down onto the soft patch of grass tucked away at the far end of the rooftop , hidden behind a wall of potted plants.
Out of sight, out of reach, lost in their own world.
Lestat pinned Louis underneath him, straddling his hips, hands braced on either side of Louis’s head.
Louis looked up at him , hair mussed, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide with lust , and something broke loose in Lestat’s chest.
“I need you,” Lestat whispered, voice cracking.
Louis didn’t hesitate.
“Then take me, ”he said.
Lestat didn’t waste another second.
He leaned down, catching Louis’s mouth in another punishing kiss, hands fumbling at the waistband of Louis’s slacks.
Louis arched up against him, impatient, clawing at Lestat’s own belt with shaking fingers.
It was messy , frantic , both of them desperate to get closer, to feel skin against skin without barriers.
Lestat broke the kiss just long enough to yank Louis’s pants down over his hips, dragging his underwear along with them in one rough, clumsy motion.
Louis gasped at the cool night air on his heated skin, but then Lestat’s hand closed around him and he forgot how to breathe altogether.
“Christ,” Louis choked out, hips jerking up instinctively into Lestat’s palm.
Lestat groaned low in his throat, staring down at him with a look so raw, so utterly wrecked, that it made Louis’s heart ache.
“You have no idea,” Lestat rasped, stroking him slowly, teasingly, “how long I’ve wanted this.”
Louis shivered beneath him, nails digging into Lestat’s shoulders.
“Show me,” he breathed.
Lestat didn’t need to be told twice.
He kissed his way down Louis’s chest, over his ribs, down the soft plane of his stomach, until he was kneeling between Louis’s spread legs , reverent, worshipful.
He mouthed along the inside of Louis’s thigh, biting softly, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin there just to hear Louis’s breath hitch.
Louis fisted his hands in the grass, trying to stay quiet, but a broken moan slipped out when Lestat’s mouth finally, finally closed around him.
Heat flooded through him , overwhelming, blinding , as Lestat worked him with slow, torturous thoroughness, hollowing his cheeks and humming low in his throat.
Louis’s hips bucked helplessly.
It was too much, too good, too intense.
“Lestat,” Louis gasped, tugging at his hair.
Lestat pulled back, lips shiny, eyes dark with hunger.
“Not yet,” he said, voice ragged.
He stripped his own clothes off with hurried, shaking hands, tossing them aside carelessly.
Louis watched him, dazed and panting , every inch of him flushed and aching with need.
When Lestat settled between his legs again, he was gloriously naked, gloriously hard, and Louis’s heart stuttered painfully in his chest at the sight of him.
So beautiful.
So utterly his.
Lestat kissed him again, slower this time, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him.
He slicked his fingers carefully, reaching down between them, and Louis tensed instinctively , years of restraint warring with his desperate need.
“Relax, mon amour,” Lestat murmured against his mouth, soothing, coaxing.
Louis forced himself to breathe, to let go, to trust.
The first finger slid inside him and he gasped , sharp and bright , clinging to Lestat’s shoulders.
It hurt, a little, but it also burned in a way that made him shudder with want.
Lestat moved slowly, carefully, kissing him all the while, whispering soft French words against his lips , words Louis couldn’t understand but somehow felt in his bones.
Another finger joined the first, stretching him open, preparing him with agonizing patience.
Louis whimpered against Lestat’s mouth, thighs trembling, back arching off the ground.
“You’re doing so well,” Lestat breathed, voice shaking. “God, Louis, you feel so good…”
Louis bit his lip, trying to muffle the desperate noises spilling out of him, but Lestat wouldn’t allow it.
He kissed him deeper, harder, pulling every sound from him like a symphony.
When Lestat finally pulled his fingers away, Louis whimpered at the loss, but the sound was swallowed by another kiss.
“Are you sure?” Lestat whispered against his mouth, chest heaving.
Louis wrapped his arms around him, dragging him closer, desperate and unashamed.
“Yes,” he whispered back. “Please.”
Lestat groaned , a sound of pure, helpless need , and lined himself up carefully.
The first push stole Louis’s breath away.
He was big , thicker than Louis had remembered from drunken touches years ago , and it burned, but Louis clutched at him tighter, urging him closer.
“Shh,” Lestat soothed, kissing the tears that leaked from the corners of Louis’s eyes.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed all the way in , seating himself deep inside Louis until their hips were flush, their bodies trembling against each other.
Louis clung to him, gasping, every nerve ending ablaze.
He felt full.
Owned.
Ruined.
And he never wanted it to end.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
They just breathed , harsh, broken breaths , wrapped up in the rawness of it all.
Lestat cradled Louis’s face between his hands, pressing their foreheads together, as if grounding them both.
Louis felt split open , not just physically but emotionally , laid bare under Lestat’s gaze.
When Lestat finally began to move, it was slow at first , gentle rolls of his hips, shallow thrusts that made Louis gasp and clutch tighter at his back.
“You’re perfect,” Lestat whispered, voice wrecked.
Louis shook his head, overwhelmed, nails digging into Lestat’s skin.
But Lestat just kissed him again, swallowing every denial, every broken noise that slipped from his lips.
Each thrust grew deeper, more demanding , Louis’s body yielding to the rhythm, burning, aching, needing.
The friction, the pressure, the overwhelming sensation of being filled , it all crashed into him at once, dizzying and unbearable and so, so good.
Lestat set a brutal rhythm, hips snapping forward with sharp, relentless precision, driving into him again and again.
Louis cried out, the sounds ripped from him without mercy, echoing into the night air.
He was helpless , pinned beneath Lestat’s weight, taken apart piece by piece, undone by the man he had spent years trying to hate.
Lestat grabbed Louis’s wrists, pinning them above his head against the soft grass, holding him completely still, completely his.
Louis moaned at the loss of control, the possessiveness in Lestat’s touch.
“You drive me insane,” Lestat growled, teeth scraping along Louis’s jaw.
“You always have.”
Louis’s heart twisted painfully in his chest.
He bucked his hips up to meet Lestat’s thrusts, desperate for more, for everything.
“Lestat…” he gasped, voice breaking.
Lestat leaned down, kissing him fiercely, claiming him completely.
Their bodies moved together in frantic, chaotic rhythm, grinding, thrusting, chasing a high they’d denied themselves for too long.
Louis felt the orgasm building , raw and devastating , tightening low in his belly.
Lestat reached between them, wrapping his hand around Louis’s cock and stroking in time with his thrusts.
Louis cried out again, arching helplessly into the touch.
It was too much.
Too good.
Too much.
He shattered with a choked sob, spilling between their bodies, body convulsing under Lestat’s weight.
The orgasm ripped through him, leaving him wrung out and trembling.
Lestat cursed under his breath, fucking him through it, thrusts growing erratic.
Then he was coming too, buried deep inside Louis with a broken moan, hips jerking, nails digging into Louis’s wrists.
For a long moment, they just lay there , tangled, sweating, panting, shaking.
The night air cooled the sweat on their bodies, but neither of them moved.
Louis felt hollowed out, gutted, filled up by something he didn’t have a name for.
Lestat rested his forehead against Louis’s shoulder, breathing hard.
“You’re mine,” Lestat whispered, so soft Louis almost didn’t hear it.
Louis squeezed his eyes shut, heart pounding painfully in his chest.
He couldn’t do this.
He couldn’t feel this.
Without thinking, he pushed at Lestat’s chest, wriggling out from under him.
“Lou…” Lestat started, reaching for him.
But Louis scrambled to his feet, pulling his clothes on with shaking hands, heart slamming against his ribs.
He couldn’t look at Lestat.
Couldn’t bear to see whatever was written across his face.
He needed to run.
Without a word, Louis turned and fled , disappearing into the darkened stairwell that led back down into the building, leaving Lestat alone on the rooftop.
The night swallowed him whole.
And Lestat didn’t chase him.
Lestat sat back heavily on the grass, staring after Louis long after he disappeared into the shadows.
The cold air wrapped around his bare skin, but he barely felt it.
He had known it would happen.
Part of him had even expected it , the fear in Louis’s eyes, the way he had shaken under his touch, not just from pleasure but from everything that burned between them.
Still, it didn’t make it hurt any less.
Lestat dragged a trembling hand through his hair, staring up at the stars overhead.
The night sky stretched endless and uncaring above him, a sharp contrast to the wreckage inside his chest.
“I always ruin everything,” he muttered bitterly to himself.
He pulled his clothes back on slowly, methodically , every button, every zipper, done with numb fingers.
Each movement felt hollow, mechanical, as if going through the motions might somehow stitch him back together.
It didn’t.
The rooftop garden felt empty now , the air too cold, the flowers too still, the city buzzing quietly below like a world they no longer belonged to.
Lestat stood up at last, unsteady on his feet.
For a moment, he considered chasing after Louis , tracking him down wherever he had gone, forcing him to talk, to stay, to not run away again.
But he didn’t.
He couldn’t.
Not like this.
Not when he knew Louis would only resent him for it.
So he turned away from the place where their world had cracked open and left, steps heavy, heart heavier.
Down the stairs, through the halls, past the empty conference rooms where they had fought and fought and fought , never seeing what was right in front of them.
Lestat shoved the door to the lobby open too hard, the heavy wood slamming against the wall.
The night guard barely looked up from his desk as Lestat stormed past.
Outside, the air was sharp and cold and real.
He needed to find something , anything , to drown out the ache in his chest.
Maybe he’d go to a bar.
Maybe he’d pick a fight.
Maybe he’d find someone who looked nothing like Louis and pretend, for just a little while, that he didn’t care.
He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, head down, walking fast into the dark streets.
But no matter how far he went, Louis’s taste was still on his lips, Louis’s voice was still in his ears, and Louis’s warmth was still burned into his skin.
There was no outrunning it.
No escaping it.
And deep down, Lestat knew:
this wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
As Lestat shoved his hands deeper into his coat pockets, fingers stiff from the cold, he felt something unusual brush against his knuckles , something thin and papery.
He stopped mid-step, confusion cutting through his haze of anger and heartbreak.
Slowly, he pulled it out.
It was a folded piece of paper, a little crumpled from being hidden away, his name scrawled across the front in familiar handwriting . Louis’s handwriting.
His heart thudded painfully against his ribs.
Hands shaking, he unfolded the letter right there under the flickering streetlight.
Louis’s words stared up at him, raw and unsteady:
Lestat,
If you find this, it means I wasn’t brave enough to say it to your face.
I don’t know how to do this , any of this. I spent so long hating you, trying to pretend you didn’t still have this hold on me.
But you do. You always have.
Tonight scared me. Not because of what we did, but because of how much I wanted it.
Because of how much I wanted you.
I’m a coward. I don’t know if I can be the man you deserve.
But I wanted you to know… it wasn’t meaningless for me. It never was.
I’m sorry.
— Louis
Lestat read it once.
Then again.
And again, the words blurring through the sudden sting in his eyes.
For a long time, he just stood there, the letter clutched tightly in his hand, the night spinning around him.
Maybe Louis had run.
Maybe he was afraid.
But he hadn’t run without leaving something behind.
Hope.
A chance.
Something Lestat hadn’t dared believe in for a long, long time.
And if there was even the smallest chance Louis still wanted him …
he wasn’t going to let him go without a fight.
Not this time.
Not ever again.
Notes:
Leave comments!i always love to read what you guys think!
Chapter 9: The Letter He Left Behind…
Chapter Text
The city stretched cold and bright around him, but Lestat barely noticed.
The paper in his hand felt heavier than anything he had ever carried , heavier than the rivalry, heavier than the endless battles they fought, heavier than the weight of all his mistakes.
He stood under a streetlight, the golden glow casting long shadows across the sidewalk, and stared at the crumpled letter again.
If you find this, it means I wasn’t brave enough to say it to your face.
The words burned.
Lestat swallowed hard, crumpling the letter slightly in his fist before smoothing it out again with trembling fingers.
Louis’s handwriting was messy, rushed , not like the neat, professional signature he always signed on company documents.
This was raw. Real.
Lestat slowly sat down on a nearby bench, the iron cold against his legs through his trousers.
He rested his elbows on his knees, the letter open in both hands, reading it over and over until the words blurred.
I spent so long hating you, trying to pretend you didn’t still have this hold on me.
He laughed bitterly under his breath.
“Hold on you?” he muttered to the night. “Louis, you have no idea.”
The wind picked up, tossing loose leaves across the pavement.
Somewhere far away, a siren wailed.
The city moved around him, indifferent, uncaring , but Lestat sat frozen, trapped between the boy he had once been and the man he was now.
Tonight scared me. Not because of what we did, but because of how much I wanted it.
Lestat pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, willing himself not to feel it , not to hope.
Hope was dangerous.
Hope could kill a man faster than a bullet.
And yet…
he had it.
Because Louis had left this letter. Because Louis had wanted him too , enough to put it into words, even if he hadn’t been able to say it aloud.
He folded the letter carefully, reverently, and tucked it inside the inner pocket of his coat.
Close to his heart.
He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring.
He didn’t know if Louis would run again, if he would slam doors and build walls the way he always had.
But tonight, for the first time in a long time, Lestat allowed himself a dangerous, reckless thought:
Maybe it wasn’t too late.
Maybe he hadn’t already lost the only person he had ever truly loved.
He leaned back against the bench, staring up at the stars.
The night was endless and sharp above him, but somewhere deep inside his chest, something fragile and stubborn flickered to life.
Hope.
And he wasn’t about to let it die without a fight.
The apartment was too quiet.
Louis sat on the worn leather couch, a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand, the city lights bleeding faintly through the large windows behind him.
The night pressed against the glass like a living thing, but inside, everything was still. Frozen.
He hadn’t turned on the lights.
He didn’t want to see himself , didn’t want to see the shame carved into his reflection.
His heart still raced in his chest, the ghost of Lestat’s touch lingering on his skin like a brand he couldn’t scrub away.
What had he done?
He set the glass down too hard on the coffee table, the sound loud in the silence.
He scrubbed his hands over his face, wishing he could wipe away the memory of the kiss, the taste of Lestat’s mouth on his, the desperate, angry way he had clung to him ,and worse, the way part of him had loved it.
Louis leaned forward, elbows resting heavily on his knees, and stared at the floor.
The whiskey pooled amber in the glass beside him, forgotten.
He had written the letter in a moment of panic, a last-second act of cowardice.
He hadn’t even known if Lestat would find it.
He hadn’t known what he wanted Lestat to do if he did.
I’m a coward, he had written.
It was true.
Even now, a small, bitter voice inside him whispered: You could still run. You could pretend none of it ever happened. You could go back to the way things were.
But he didn’t want that.
Not really.
He was tired , tired of pretending, tired of hating Lestat just because it was easier than admitting the truth.
He still loved him.
He had probably never stopped.
The thought cut through him, sharp and merciless.
He had wasted so many years, buried under anger and pride and fear.
And now, when Lestat had finally broken through, when Louis had finally let himself feel again , he had run.
He hated himself for it.
Outside, a car horn blared, and Louis flinched as if waking from a nightmare.
The city moved on without him, indifferent to the chaos in his chest.
He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, he would fix it.
Somehow.
He didn’t know what he would say.
He didn’t know if he could even look Lestat in the eye without falling apart.
But he had to try.
Because if he lost Lestat now , really lost him ,he didn’t think he could survive it.
The thought brought a painful lump to his throat.
He pressed a fist against his mouth, willing himself not to fall apart completely.
Not yet.
Tomorrow.
The next morning, the building buzzed with its usual polished chaos.
Employees hurried through the marble halls, shoes clicking sharply against the floor, voices murmuring, phones ringing.
Lestat barely heard any of it.
He moved through the lobby like a man possessed, his sharp eyes scanning every face, every figure , searching.
He wore a mask of nonchalance, as he always did, a lazy smile here, a bored tilt of the head there , but inside, he was a storm.
Louis wasn’t at his desk.
Louis wasn’t in the conference room.
Louis wasn’t anywhere.
Lestat’s chest tightened.
He asked one of the assistants casually, pretending not to care.
“Oh, Mr. de Pointe du Lac? No, he called in some work from home today. He said he’ll be back tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
Another day. Another delay. Another stretch of unbearable silence.
Lestat barely nodded before turning away, heart hammering in his ears.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, fingers brushing against the folded letter again , a cruel reminder of the night before, of the rooftop garden, of Louis’s mouth against his, desperate and real, before everything had fallen apart.
The world blurred around him , faces, colors, meaningless chatter.
He ran because of you, a bitter voice whispered inside him. Because you pushed too hard. Because you never know when to stop.
He clenched his jaw, ignoring it.
No.
Louis hadn’t run because he hated him.
Louis had kissed him back , had written that letter.
Fear , not hatred , had driven him away.
Still, doubt gnawed at him as he wandered the halls aimlessly, unable to focus on anything else.
At one point, he found himself near the elevator bank, waiting without realizing it.
A soft chime.
The doors opened , and there he was.
Louis.
For a breathless second, they stared at each other across the open lobby.
Louis’s face was pale, drawn tight with exhaustion and something else , something raw and vulnerable that twisted like a knife in Lestat’s gut.
He took a step forward, instinct driving him closer , but Louis flinched back.
Not visibly.
Just the smallest stiffening of his shoulders, the faintest hardening of his eyes.
It was enough.
The elevator doors closed again, swallowing Louis from sight.
Lestat stood there, fists clenching helplessly at his sides, feeling like the world had tilted under his feet.
He wanted to shout.
He wanted to chase after him.
He wanted to grab him by the shoulders and demand to know why Louis was still running when it was so obvious , so painfully obvious , that they were both drowning in the same storm.
But he didn’t.
Not yet.
Lestat exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay still.
Tomorrow, he thought, repeating Louis’s silent promise back to himself.
Tomorrow.
He would give Louis one more night.
One more chance.
And if Louis didn’t come to him ,then Lestat would go to him.
Whatever it took.
The evening dragged on endlessly.
Lestat sat alone in his office, jacket thrown over the back of the chair, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up.
The city sprawled outside the glass wall , endless, glittering, alive , but he couldn’t focus on any of it.
He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, one hand absently toying with a pen.
He should have been working.
There were contracts to review, calls to make, reports to finish.
Instead, he stared at his silent phone like it was a lifeline slipping further and further out of reach.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, stewing in frustration and longing, when the phone buzzed against the wooden surface.
He snatched it up so fast he almost dropped it.
One new message.
Unknown number , but he knew immediately who it was.
Louis.
Heart hammering, Lestat opened the message with a single swipe.
“Meet me at the rooftop garden. 11 PM. Please.”
Simple. Barely a dozen words.
But it was enough.
Lestat shot to his feet, adrenaline flooding his veins.
He grabbed his jacket, not bothering to fix his tie or check the time.
It didn’t matter.
He was already moving, already out the door, already sprinting for the rooftop like a man possessed.
He barely heard the security guard call after him.
He barely noticed the cold wind slicing through the stairwell as he took the stairs two at a time.
Nothing mattered except getting to Louis.
Nothing mattered except not wasting another second.
By the time he reached the rooftop, his lungs burned, and his blood was roaring in his ears.
The door slammed open under his hand , and there, silhouetted against the city lights, stood Louis.
Waiting.
Lestat froze, heart in his throat.
Louis turned at the sound, their eyes meeting across the rooftop , and for the first time in days, maybe years, there was no anger in Louis’s gaze.
Only fear.
And something deeper.
Something fragile and pleading and real.
Lestat swallowed hard.
He stepped forward once, slowly.
Louis didn’t move away.
Another step.
Still, Louis stayed.
The space between them felt charged, heavy, alive with everything they hadn’t said , everything they had been too afraid to admit.
When Lestat finally stood before him, close enough to touch, he spoke first , voice rough, broken.
“You came.”
Louis nodded once, tightly.
His hands were jammed deep into the pockets of his coat, shoulders stiff, like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.
“I had to,” Louis whispered.
The city roared quietly around them , a thousand lights, a thousand lives , but in that moment, there was only them.
Just the two of them, standing on the edge of something they could barely name.
“I found your letter,” Lestat said, softer.
Louis closed his eyes, pain flashing across his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I didn’t know how to say it to your face.”
“You did,” Lestat said, taking another step, until there was almost no space left between them.
“You said enough.”
Louis opened his eyes again , and this time, he didn’t look away.
He looked at Lestat like he was drowning, and Lestat was the only thing that could save him.
And maybe he was.
Maybe they could still save each other.
Without thinking , or maybe because he had thought about nothing else for days . Lestat reached out and cupped Louis’s face in both hands.
Louis flinched slightly , but didn’t pull away.
Slowly, achingly slow, Lestat leaned in.
Their foreheads touched first, a soft, desperate meeting of skin against skin.
Louis’s breath hitched.
And then, finally . Finally ,their mouths met.
It wasn’t like the kiss on the rooftop a few nights ago , frantic, angry, half-mad.
This was slower.
Softer.
Deeper.
A kiss that said: I’m still here.
A kiss that said: Don’t run from me again.
Louis kissed him back just as fiercely, one hand rising to clutch the front of Lestat’s shirt like he needed to anchor himself.
Lestat sank into him, arms wrapping tight around Louis’s waist, pulling him close, not caring if the whole damn city watched.
Let them.
This was real.
This was theirs.
Louis finally broke the kiss with a shuddering breath, his forehead pressing against Lestat’s again.
“I’m scared,” he admitted, voice shaking.
Lestat smiled , a real smile, a rare, broken thing.
“Me too,” he whispered.
They stood there, wrapped up in each other, the whole world falling away.
And for the first time, Louis didn’t pull back.
Notes:
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And also I always love to read your comments,that my favorite part so please leave plenty of them.
Chapter 10: The Letter I Left Behind…
Summary:
This is Louis’s pov from chapter 8
For those who wondered how Louis put his letter in lestat coat
This is a short chapter but a bigger one is coming tonight
Don’t worry 😉
Also big thank you to Egirl for always leaving comments❤️❤️
Chapter Text
He hadn’t meant to write it.
Not at first.
Louis had only sat at his desk because the silence in his penthouse had become unbearable, like something caved in around him. He had thought a glass of wine, the skyline, and distance would soothe whatever storm Lestat had stirred inside him. But it hadn’t. Nothing did. And somehow, in that aching quiet, his pen had found its way to paper.
The letter began with his name. Lestat.
Just that, sitting lonely at the top of the page. He stared at it for a long time.
What was he even trying to do?
He’d told himself that he’d moved on. That everything between them was tangled in the past and the bitterness of their parents. But now,after the boardroom, after the rooftop, after the way Lestat had looked at him,it didn’t feel like something that could be left behind.
Louis ran a hand over his face and leaned back in his chair. The city lights blinked far below, unaware of the war behind his ribs.
He should tear the page up. Burn it. Pretend nothing had ever been written.
But instead, he picked up the pen again.
I don’t know why I’m writing this, he began. Maybe I’m just tired of pretending.
He paused. That was true. All of it. Pretending not to care. Pretending his heart didn’t pound whenever Lestat was near, or that his silence wasn’t sharp every time Lestat tried to make him smile.
He wrote more slowly now, like every word might betray too much. He wasn’t sure what this was supposed to be,confession, apology, warning.
You’ve always been reckless. Charming. Impossible to ignore.
I hated you for that. I still do, sometimes.
But I think the truth is, I’ve never really stopped…
He stopped. The pen hovered in the air.
What? Loving him? Missing him? Needing him?
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Instead, he folded the letter.
No signature. No return address. Just folded and creased like something private and unfinished,something not meant to survive the morning.
He didn’t plan on giving it to him.
But plans meant nothing where Lestat was concerned.
The event was over. The rooftop meeting had bled into something else entirely,something raw and real,and Louis didn’t trust himself to speak another word without unraveling.
He found Lestat’s coat slung over the back of a chair, just as careless as he always was with expensive things. Louis held it for a moment. His fingers curled into the fabric. He could still smell Lestat on it,cologne and something warmer underneath, familiar.
His heart thudded.
He slid the letter into the inside pocket.
It felt like a betrayal. Or a lifeline.
Then he walked away.
Lestat found it later that night, after Louis had long disappeared into the dark.
He was half-drunk on leftover adrenaline and hope, tossing his coat onto the couch when something stiff in the lining caught his attention. His fingers brushed over it. A letter.
No name. No mark.
But he knew.
Lestat stared at it in disbelief for a full minute before he opened it.
Then he read the first line.
And read it again.
Notes:
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Chapter 11: The Ride
Summary:
This is the following chapter after 9
Chapter Text
The kiss lingered.
Even after their lips had parted, even as the cold air wrapped itself around them again, Louis could still feel it , the press of Lestat’s mouth, the warmth of his breath, the way his body had fit so easily into his arms, like nothing had changed and everything had changed all at once.
He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen tonight.
He hadn’t even meant to send the message.
And yet, he had.
And now here they were , walking in silence through the mostly empty building, their footsteps echoing on the tile, the space between them almost nonexistent. Lestat didn’t touch him again, but his presence was like a magnet pulling at Louis’s ribs.
The elevator ride down was quiet.
Lestat’s hand hovered near the panel but didn’t press anything for a long moment. He looked at Louis like he was waiting for something , permission, maybe.
Louis nodded once.
The doors closed with a soft whisper.
Neither of them spoke.
Louis stared ahead, trying to focus on the numbers descending. Floor after floor. Ten, nine, eight… Anything to keep himself from falling too deeply into the knot in his chest. A tangle of want and fear and confusion that felt all too familiar.
Lestat’s hand brushed against his.
It was so slight Louis could’ve pretended it didn’t happen.
But he didn’t.
He let it stay there. Let their fingers touch, then slowly tangle together as the elevator continued its slow, quiet descent. The contact grounded him in a way words couldn’t. He didn’t trust his voice right now anyway.
Lestat’s apartment was only a short drive away.
The car ride was just as quiet, save for the gentle hum of the engine and the soft city sounds beyond the windows. Lestat drove like he always did ,one hand on the wheel, the other resting easily in his lap. But every few moments, Louis felt his gaze flicker sideways. Not demanding, not intrusive ,just checking.
Louis looked out the window, watched the blur of streetlights, neon, lives rushing past.
Everything outside felt too fast.
Inside the car, it was like time had slowed down.
He tried to remember when the last time was that he’d been alone with Lestat like this, in this kind of quiet. Not angry, not guarded. Just… still.
He couldn’t remember.
And yet his body did. The tension in his shoulders was beginning to melt, just a little. His fingers still tingled from that kiss, his pulse still quick whenever Lestat shifted beside him.
He was scared of what it meant , of what would happen when they were finally alone, behind closed doors.
But he wasn’t stopping it either.
When Lestat pulled into the underground garage, neither of them moved for a long second after the car stopped. The hum of the engine faded, and silence settled in like fog.
Lestat turned toward him slowly. “You don’t have to come up, Louis.”
His voice was low. Not pushing. Just offering.
Louis finally looked at him fully , and found none of the usual mischief or arrogance there. Just Lestat. Tired, hopeful. A little afraid, maybe.
“I know,” Louis said quietly.
Then he opened the door.
He followed Lestat up the stairs. Not because he was sure of anything. Not because he had answers.
But because, for the first time in years, he wanted to know what might happen if he stopped running.
And right now, that was enough.
The apartment hadn’t changed much.
Louis had been here before , years ago, in another lifetime, when everything between them had still been unspoken. Back then, Lestat had just moved in, the place still half-furnished, full of reckless ambition and half-filled wine glasses.He had asked his mother for an apartment,so that he could be alone.He had invited Louis many times to hang out.
Now it was cleaner. Sleeker. The kind of place that looked expensive without trying too hard. Subtle, well-placed art. A stack of untouched books on the glass coffee table. A decanter of dark red wine on the counter that hadn’t been opened.
Still, the scent of Lestat was everywhere , expensive cologne, old books, fresh paper. That warmth Louis had spent years trying to forget.
Lestat didn’t say anything as he let him in. He just stepped aside, letting Louis walk in first, closing the door quietly behind them.
Louis stood in the middle of the living room, his coat still on, unsure of what to do with his hands, his breath, his heart.
Lestat stepped closer.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked softly.
Louis shook his head. “No.”
It came out quieter than he intended.
He wasn’t sure what he was saying no to , the wine, the pretense, the time wasted filling silence with unnecessary things.
Lestat nodded and didn’t press. He stepped closer, slow and careful, like Louis was something he didn’t want to startle.
“You’re really here,” Lestat said. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I wasn’t sure I would either,” Louis admitted.
They stood there, facing each other, not quite touching.
The space between them shrank, and then it broke.
Louis stepped forward first.
The kiss this time wasn’t careful. It was immediate. Desperate. A soft gasp against lips, the heat of months , no, years , finally breaking through the wall they’d both held up too long.
Lestat’s hands found Louis’s face, holding him like he was something precious and fragile. Louis clung to Lestat’s coat like he was afraid he’d disappear.
He didn’t know who moved first , maybe both of them , but they stumbled back together toward the bedroom.
There was no teasing. No games.
Their mouths barely left each other’s. Between kisses, Lestat whispered his name like a prayer. Louis let himself drown in it, let his hands learn the shape of him again, over fabric and then beneath it.
Clothes came off slowly. Reverently.
Lestat’s skin was warm under his fingers, the muscles of his back flexing as Louis pushed his coat from his shoulders, then his shirt. Louis followed with his own, trying not to tremble when Lestat touched the bare skin of his ribs.
Their bodies came together like they’d done this before , like they’d never stopped.
Louis let himself feel everything. The softness of Lestat’s mouth. The press of his body. The way he whispered his name again and again, like it was enough to undo them both.
By the time they fell into bed, nothing else mattered. Not the years they’d lost. Not the words they’d never said.
Only this.
Only now.
Only them.
The bed felt different. Softer, maybe. Or maybe it was just the way their bodies fit together, the space between them filled with a kind of tension Louis couldn’t explain. There was no rushing this. No more walls between them. The moment they touched, it was as if everything that had ever kept them apart collapsed.
Lestat’s hands were everywhere. His fingertips brushed over Louis’s chest, tracing the lines of old scars , ones Louis hadn’t let anyone touch for years. And yet, here he was, letting Lestat trace every inch of him as though it were a map. Like every touch held meaning.
Louis couldn’t focus on anything but the feel of Lestat’s lips on his skin, hot and insistent. His mouth found Louis’s throat, trailing down the sensitive line of his collarbone, then lower still. Louis inhaled sharply, a sharp shiver running down his spine. His body responded in ways he couldn’t quite control. The heat spreading through his limbs, the sudden ache between his thighs , everything was building too quickly, too urgently.
Lestat pulled back for a moment, his gaze dark and intense. He looked at Louis like he was trying to read him, like there was something more beneath the surface.
“Are you sure?” Lestat’s voice was low, barely above a whisper.
Louis swallowed, nodding, though the knot in his stomach didn’t go away. He hadn’t been sure of much in the last few years, but there was one thing he was certain of now.
“I’m sure.”
And then they were kissing again, deeper this time. More desperate. Louis’s fingers tangled in Lestat’s hair, pulling him closer, needing him in a way that felt almost like a plea. Lestat responded with the same fervor, his hands skimming down Louis’s back, dragging his fingertips lightly over his skin.
It was like everything about their past , every argument, every silent year , fell away in the heat of the moment. This was just them. No pretenses. No masks.
Louis let out a soft gasp when Lestat’s hand brushed lower, his fingers skimming the waistband of Louis’s trousers, the touch so light it almost felt like a promise.
“Tell me what you want,” Lestat murmured against his lips, his voice almost hoarse.
Louis’s breath hitched. He didn’t have the words for what he wanted, not exactly. But he didn’t need them. Lestat knew. And, for the first time in a long time, Louis let himself believe it.
He let himself fall into it , the warmth of Lestat’s body, the way their skin seemed to melt together, the way every kiss burned with the desire they’d both ignored for far too long.
Lestat’s hand was steady as it moved lower, tracing the lines of Louis’s body with intent, as though he were learning every inch of him again. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled at the fabric that separated them, stripping it away until there was nothing between them but skin and need.
Louis shuddered when Lestat’s lips found his chest, his mouth hot and persistent against his sensitive skin. Every touch sent shocks through him, his body reacting with a hunger that he didn’t recognize.
Then, Lestat’s lips were at his ear, his breath hot against it as he whispered, “You feel so good.”
Louis’s heart skipped. He didn’t trust his voice enough to answer, so he kissed Lestat instead. Deeply, fiercely, trying to convey everything he couldn’t say. Every emotion tangled up inside him. The tenderness, the pain, the way his heart beat faster whenever Lestat touched him, even after all this time.
Lestat’s hands were everywhere , pulling him closer, guiding him, his body moving over Louis’s with a confidence that made Louis ache. The way he knew exactly how to touch him, how to make him forget everything except the way their bodies moved together. Louis lost himself in it, in the way Lestat kissed him and touched him, in the way his body responded as though it had been waiting for this, for him.
It was overwhelming. Beautiful. Intoxicating.
And then Lestat paused, just for a moment, pulling back slightly to look at Louis, his expression unreadable. His lips were swollen from their kiss, his eyes dark with desire.
Louis’s breath was ragged, his body trembling under the intensity of it all. He met Lestat’s gaze, and for the first time in years, he wasn’t running. He wasn’t hiding.
Lestat’s hand cupped his face, his thumb brushing over Louis’s lips gently. “We don’t have to rush,” he said softly.
Louis swallowed hard. He felt like he was falling, like he was free-falling with no way to stop. But the truth was, he didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want this to end.
“I know,” Louis whispered. “But I need this. I need you.”
And that was enough.
Lestat kissed him again, and this time there was nothing but the heat, the urgency, the want. No more words. Just touch.
Louis let go of everything , the fear, the doubt, the past. Just for tonight, there was only this. Only Lestat. Only the way his body felt alive again, the way it seemed to sync with Lestat’s, like it was meant to be this way. Like they were meant to be this way.
The room was charged with electricity, the air thick with the weight of everything they hadn’t said. Louis could feel every inch of Lestat’s body against his, every breath he took, every tiny shiver that passed between them. It wasn’t just physical. This was something deeper. Something neither of them could have planned for.
Lestat’s hand moved across Louis’s chest, slow and deliberate, sending waves of heat to places that had long been dormant. Louis’s heart thudded in his chest, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. The need was undeniable, but so was the hesitation. This was the moment where everything would either change or break.
But Lestat wasn’t waiting. He never did. His lips, soft but insistent, moved down Louis’s neck, kissing, biting, tasting like he was starving. Louis couldn’t help but respond, a soft gasp slipping from his lips. His hands found Lestat’s back, his fingers digging into the firm muscles there as he pulled him closer, needing more. Every touch felt like a spark, igniting something in him that he had been trying to suppress for years.
Lestat’s mouth traveled lower, brushing over Louis’s collarbone, his chest, his stomach. He paused at Louis’s navel, his fingers tracing the outline of the fabric still clinging to Louis’s body, and Louis found himself holding his breath, unsure of what he wanted more , for him to pull it away or for him to stop altogether. But then Lestat’s hands slid under the fabric, pushing it up, revealing the soft skin beneath, and Louis’s breath hitched.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Lestat murmured, his voice thick with desire, his lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they went.
Louis closed his eyes, letting the sensation of Lestat’s touch wash over him. His body was responding, betraying the restraint he’d tried to maintain. The tension in his chest built higher, the need for release becoming almost unbearable. Lestat’s mouth found its way to his ribs, his hands sliding further down, coaxing Louis’s body to relax, to let go.
“Lestat,” Louis whispered, barely able to form the words. It wasn’t a question. It was a plea.
Lestat pulled back just slightly, his gaze intense, searching Louis’s face as if to ask for permission, though they both knew it was more than that. Louis’s chest rose and fell, his breath ragged, and he nodded. It wasn’t the first time, but it felt different this time. More urgent. More real.
Without another word, Lestat moved swiftly, stripping away the final barriers that separated them. Louis let out a shaky breath, his body trembling in anticipation, but he wasn’t scared anymore. Not of Lestat. Not of what this meant. It was a release , a surrender to what had been building between them for so long.
Lestat moved above him, his body pressing into Louis’s, his breath hot against his skin. The weight of him was comforting, grounding. Louis wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer, needing the closeness more than he cared to admit.
For a moment, they simply held each other, letting the silence speak for them. Their bodies fit together so easily, so perfectly, that it was almost unreal. It was as though every distance between them had collapsed, leaving only the undeniable truth , they belonged like this.
“Are you sure?” Lestat asked again, his voice low, but Louis could hear the hint of uncertainty in it.
“I’m sure,” Louis whispered, his fingers sliding into Lestat’s hair as he kissed him deeply, fiercely. There was no turning back now. This was everything they had been fighting against, everything they had denied for so long, and yet, in this moment, it was all they needed.
Lestat’s movements were slow, deliberate. His body shifted against Louis’s, every movement calculated to send waves of heat through his body. The soft friction between them built slowly, but the intensity was there. The tension, the passion, the need for something deeper than either of them had been willing to admit before.
Louis gasped as Lestat’s lips moved down his neck again, his hands exploring every inch of Louis’s body, touching, tasting, coaxing out every response. It was like a slow burn, like every touch was igniting something in him he hadn’t realized was there.
The ache between Louis’s thighs grew unbearable, and he couldn’t stop himself from arching into Lestat, needing more of him. His fingers tangled in Lestat’s hair, pulling him closer, urging him on. Every kiss, every touch, every moment was like a spark, lighting a fire that threatened to consume them both.
Lestat’s movements became faster, more urgent, his body pressing harder against Louis’s. The tension between them reached a breaking point, and Louis couldn’t hold back any longer. He met Lestat’s rhythm, his hips moving in sync with him, a desperate need driving him forward. Their bodies moved together in a perfect rhythm, a shared desire that left no room for hesitation.
Lestat’s name escaped Louis’s lips in a breathless whisper, and the sound of it seemed to fuel the fire between them. Lestat’s response was a soft groan, his grip tightening on Louis’s body as he pushed them both higher, closer to the edge.
And then, just when it seemed like they couldn’t get any closer, the tension broke. Louis’s body tensed, every muscle locking as waves of pleasure crashed over him. His breath came in ragged gasps, and for a moment, everything else faded away. It was just them. Just the feeling of Lestat inside him, the sensation of being alive, of finally being free.
Lestat followed soon after, his body shuddering against Louis’s, his own release coming in a burst of heat. He buried his face in Louis’s neck, his breath hot against his skin, his chest rising and falling with the effort to calm down.
They lay there together, tangled in each other, their bodies still humming with the aftershocks of their release. Louis’s hands traced lazy circles on Lestat’s back, grounding himself in the moment, in the feeling of Lestat’s presence.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was comfortable now, no longer filled with the tension of what they hadn’t said or done. It was simply them, existing together in the quiet aftermath.
Finally, Lestat stirred, pulling back slightly to look at Louis, his eyes dark and full of something Louis couldn’t quite place.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Lestat said softly.
Louis met his gaze, his heart still racing. “I know.”
Lestat kissed him again, a soft, lingering kiss that held more meaning than words ever could.
Then, pulling away, Lestat settled beside him, wrapping an arm around Louis’s waist.
“So what now?” Lestat asked quietly.
Louis turned to face him, his gaze steady. “We figure it out. Together.”
As the silence lingered between them, Louis could feel the weight of the moment settle on him. He had never imagined he’d be here, lying beside Lestat, sharing something so intimate, so vulnerable. The warmth of Lestat’s body against his was grounding, yet the emotions swirling inside him felt like they could pull him in a dozen different directions.
Lestat’s hand rested lightly on his chest, fingers tracing slow, almost absentminded patterns. His touch was soft, gentle, but there was an underlying urgency in the way he moved, as if he was waiting for something , for Louis to speak, to make sense of the mess they’d just created between them.
Louis swallowed hard, his mind racing with the multitude of thoughts and feelings that flooded his senses. His heart still pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the intensity of what had just happened. But what now? What came after the passion, after the surrender?
Lestat shifted beside him, rolling onto his side to face him. His gaze was intense, searching, but there was something else in his eyes too , something tender, something that Louis hadn’t expected.
“You’re thinking too much,” Lestat said quietly, his voice low and intimate, like a whisper shared between only them. “You’ve always been so good at that, Louis. Trying to figure it all out, trying to make sense of everything. But we don’t need to do that right now.”
Louis met his gaze, feeling his chest tighten with conflicting emotions. He wanted to push away the vulnerability that threatened to flood him. He wasn’t sure he was ready to face the truth of what had just happened, to understand the full extent of what it meant for them.
“I don’t know what this is, Lestat,” Louis admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if we can just… pretend it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t change everything.”
Lestat’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile, but his expression was still serious. “It doesn’t have to change anything if you don’t want it to. But I think we both know it already has.”
Louis’s breath caught in his throat. The weight of Lestat’s words hit him harder than he’d expected. He had tried so hard to ignore the pull between them, tried to convince himself that it was nothing more than a fleeting attraction, a dangerous temptation. But this… this moment, the way their bodies had melded together, had shattered that illusion.
“I don’t want to pretend,” Louis confessed, his voice breaking slightly. “But I’m scared. I don’t know how to navigate this with you, Lestat. I don’t know what it means for us.”
Lestat’s fingers traced the line of Louis’s jaw, his touch warm and soothing. He leaned closer, pressing his forehead gently against Louis’s, his breath soft against his skin.
“You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” Lestat murmured. “We take it one step at a time. But I won’t let you go, Louis. Not again.”
The sincerity in Lestat’s voice made something inside Louis flutter, a mix of hope and uncertainty. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as he allowed himself to sink deeper into the moment. He had spent so long running, running from Lestat, from his own feelings. But now, there was no more running. Only the truth, raw and vulnerable, laid bare between them.
“What if we’re just…” Louis began, but the words faltered in his throat. He wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. What if we’re just too different? What if this ruins everything?
Lestat gently cupped Louis’s face, his thumb brushing across his cheek in a soothing motion. “We’re not perfect, Louis. We never were. But that doesn’t mean we can’t try. Doesn’t mean we can’t make something of this. Together.”
Louis met his gaze, seeing the raw honesty in Lestat’s eyes. He had always been this way , intense, unrelenting, with a fire that burned brighter than anything Louis had ever known. And now, Louis realized that fire was no longer something to fear. It was something to be embraced.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Louis allowed himself to lean into Lestat’s touch, allowing the comfort of his presence to fill the empty spaces inside him. His lips brushed against Lestat’s in a soft, lingering kiss, a kiss that spoke volumes, that told the story of everything they had both been too afraid to say.
When they pulled back, Louis rested his forehead against Lestat’s again, his hand finding its way to Lestat’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his fingers.
“We’ll figure this out,” Louis said quietly, his voice still uncertain but no longer as fearful. “One step at a time.”
Lestat smiled softly, pressing a final kiss to Louis’s forehead. “Exactly. One step at a time.”
For a long moment, they simply lay there together, wrapped in each other’s arms. The night outside seemed to stretch on, but inside the room, time felt like it had paused. There were no more questions, no more doubts. Just the feeling of being together, of being seen, truly seen, in a way that neither of them had experienced before.
Eventually, Louis shifted, his fingers still tracing small patterns on Lestat’s chest. He wasn’t sure what the future held, what their relationship would look like moving forward. But for the first time, he wasn’t afraid to find out. He didn’t need all the answers. He only needed this , this moment, this connection.
Lestat seemed to sense his thoughts. “You’re still thinking too much,” he teased, but there was a warmth in his voice, a softness that made Louis smile despite himself.
“I can’t help it,” Louis replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “It’s who I am.”
Lestat’s smile widened, and he pulled Louis closer once again, his lips brushing lightly against his ear. “Then let me help you stop thinking. Let’s just be here. Together.”
And with that, they fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of their breathing the only thing breaking the stillness of the room.
The room was quiet again, the only sound was the soft rustling of the sheets as they shifted beneath them. The city lights outside the window cast a muted glow across the room, but the warmth between Louis and Lestat felt far brighter than any artificial light. It was as though they were in a world of their own, suspended in time.
Louis lay on his back, his head resting on the pillow, eyes staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. He could feel Lestat’s presence beside him, the weight of the other man’s body, but he didn’t move, didn’t try to fill the silence. He wasn’t sure what to say next. There was so much he wanted to say, but the words felt too complicated, too heavy.
Lestat, however, seemed to be in no rush. He was content, lying beside Louis, his gaze fixed on him with an intensity that made Louis’ heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the heat of the moment.
“What are you thinking?” Lestat asked softly, his voice breaking the silence. It wasn’t the sharp, probing tone he usually carried. It was gentle, almost tentative.
Louis exhaled a slow breath, unsure of how to answer. He turned his head to the side, meeting Lestat’s gaze, and saw something there,something raw and vulnerable. For the first time, he didn’t see the confident, unshakable Lestat he had known for years. He saw a man who was just as uncertain as Louis felt.
“I’m just…” Louis began, but the words trailed off. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration creeping in. “I don’t know. It’s just so much to process.”
Lestat nodded, as if he understood exactly what Louis was trying to say. “I get it,” he murmured. “It’s a lot to take in. But, Louis, I’m not asking for answers. I just want you to be here. With me. Right now.”
Louis swallowed hard. It was easy for Lestat to say that. He had always been the type to throw himself into things, to embrace whatever came next without hesitation. But Louis wasn’t like that. He had always been cautious, calculating. He liked to know what he was stepping into before committing.
“I’ve been running from this for so long,” Louis said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “From you. From what I feel. But now, I don’t know what to do with it. With us.”
Lestat’s hand reached for his, fingers brushing softly against Louis’s skin before intertwining with his. “You don’t have to figure everything out right now, Louis. You don’t have to have all the answers. Just let me be here with you. Let me help you figure it out.”
Louis closed his eyes, the touch of Lestat’s hand grounding him, calming his restless mind. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to surrender, even if only for this moment.
“I want to,” Louis admitted, his voice shaky. “But I’m scared. I’m scared of getting hurt again.”
Lestat’s thumb gently traced the back of Louis’s hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I know. But I won’t hurt you, Louis. Not like before. I’m not the same person I was. And I know you’re not either.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Louis could feel the sincerity in Lestat’s touch, in the way he spoke. It wasn’t the arrogance or charm that had always made him a mystery. It was something deeper, something that was starting to break through all the walls Louis had built around his heart.
“You mean that?” Louis asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Lestat nodded, his gaze unwavering. “I do.”
For a long moment, they simply lay there, holding each other, the quiet between them no longer uncomfortable but comforting. Louis could feel the steady rhythm of Lestat’s breathing, and it brought a sense of peace he hadn’t known he needed. There was still so much to figure out, so many complications, but in this moment, with Lestat’s arms around him, everything else seemed insignificant.
Louis turned toward Lestat, his head resting on the other man’s chest, and he felt the rise and fall of his breath. His hand settled on Lestat’s side, his fingers grazing over the fabric of his shirt. For a moment, they were simply two people, two souls connected by something more than words, something unspoken but undeniable.
Lestat’s lips brushed the top of Louis’s head, his breath warm against his skin. “I know you’re scared, Louis. But you don’t have to be. We’ll figure it out. Together.”
Louis closed his eyes, allowing himself to take in the warmth of Lestat’s embrace. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. That they could be different.
“Okay,” Louis whispered, his voice barely audible. “Together.”
The words felt like a promise, a vow, something that bound them to each other in a way that neither of them could fully understand, but both were willing to embrace. It was an uncertain future, but it was one they were willing to face together.
Lestat smiled, the warmth of his expression making Louis’ heart flutter. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere, Louis. Not now. Not ever.”
Louis’s chest tightened with emotion at the sincerity in Lestat’s voice. He wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that this was real, that what they shared wasn’t just a fleeting moment, but something lasting.
And for the first time in a long time, Louis allowed himself to believe it. He wasn’t sure what would happen tomorrow, or the next day, but tonight,tonight was theirs.
As they drifted into a peaceful silence, the night outside felt like a distant memory. In this room, with Lestat’s arms wrapped around him, Louis felt something he hadn’t felt in years. Safe. Seen. And maybe, just maybe, loved.
The warmth of the moment lingered between them, the weight of the world outside forgotten for the time being. But even in this cocoon of safety and quiet understanding, the real world would eventually come crashing back, and both Louis and Lestat knew it. The night had been filled with passion and unspoken promises, but there were conversations that needed to be had, truths that had to be spoken.
Louis rolled over slightly, turning to face Lestat. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights outside, casting shadows across their bodies. He could feel Lestat’s presence beside him, the rhythm of his breathing slow and steady, but his mind was far from calm. The time had come to address the most difficult part of their connection. The part that terrified him.
“I have to tell my family,” Louis said quietly, breaking the silence between them. His voice wasn’t trembling, but there was an edge to it,a nervousness he couldn’t hide.
Lestat didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he watched Louis, his gaze intense but patient. He knew that Louis had been carrying this burden for a long time, that this moment, this conversation, was inevitable. Lestat had no doubt that Louis would do what needed to be done, but the question was how. How would he announce it? How would his family react?
“I can’t keep hiding it,” Louis continued, his words feeling like they were being dragged from deep within him. “I’m tired of pretending, tired of living a life I don’t want for their sake.” He paused, unsure how to express the weight of what he was feeling. “But I don’t know how to tell them that I’m… gay. That I’m in love with you.”
The last words hung in the air, thick with emotion. Louis couldn’t look at Lestat as he said them, not yet. There was too much fear in his heart, too many questions without answers. His family was everything to him. How would they understand? How would they accept him?
Lestat’s fingers gently cupped Louis’s chin, turning his face so that their eyes met. “You don’t have to say it all at once,” Lestat murmured, his voice soft but insistent. “Tell them what you can. Tell them when you’re ready.”
Louis let out a small, shaky breath, feeling the weight of Lestat’s words settle in his chest. The reassurance was comforting, but the fear was still there. His family had always seen him as the heir, the one who would continue the family legacy. How could they understand that he no longer fit the mold they had built for him?
“Do you think they’ll hate me?” Louis asked, his voice small, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed anyone to see.
Lestat gave him a small, knowing smile. “If they hate you for loving me, then they weren’t really family to begin with.”
Louis’s eyes flickered to the side, unsure whether he believed that. Lestat spoke with such certainty, but Louis wasn’t so sure the world was as black and white as his lover made it seem. There were too many nuances, too many layers to peel back before he would know the truth.
“I’ll be there with you, Louis,” Lestat continued, his voice unwavering. “Whatever happens. And if your family can’t accept you for who you are, then we’ll face it together.”
Louis’s heart ached at the sincerity in Lestat’s words. He wasn’t alone in this anymore. But still, the weight of the decision loomed over him.
“I just don’t know how to tell them that I’m in love with the son of their greatest business rival,” Louis admitted, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.
Lestat chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against Louis’s cheek in a tender motion. “That part will be a little trickier, I admit. But they’ll come around eventually. They have no choice but to.” He smirked. “Especially once I tell Gabrielle.”
Louis raised an eyebrow, intrigued but also slightly wary. “Tell her what?”
Lestat’s grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “That I’m in a relationship with her rival’s son. You see, Gabrielle is very protective of her family business, and she’s very protective of me. She’s not going to like the idea of us together, but I think it’s about time she knows exactly who you’ve been spending your time with.”
Louis’s heart skipped a beat. Gabrielle was one of the most formidable women he knew, and if Lestat was serious about confronting her, things were about to get much more complicated. He knew how much Lestat loved to provoke people, but Gabrielle was no one to be taken lightly.
“Are you sure that’s the best way to go about it?” Louis asked, suddenly anxious. “She’s going to flip out, Lestat. She’s not just your mother. She’s also a businesswoman, and she’ll see this as a threat to everything she’s worked for.”
Lestat shrugged nonchalantly. “She’ll get over it. Gabrielle’s tough, but she’s also a pragmatist. She’ll see that we’re not a threat to her business. We’re simply… inevitable.” He smirked, clearly enjoying the thought of stirring up trouble.
Louis exhaled slowly, trying to process everything Lestat was saying. The thought of confronting his family,and especially Florence ,felt overwhelming. He had spent his life trying to maintain peace, trying to appease them and live up to their expectations. But now, it seemed like the only way forward was to tear down those walls.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to take that step yet,” Louis murmured. “Maybe I need more time.”
Lestat leaned in, pressing his lips to Louis’s forehead in a soft, reassuring kiss. “Take all the time you need, Louis. But remember, the longer you wait, the harder it will be.”
Louis closed his eyes at the touch, feeling the warmth of Lestat’s kiss seep into his skin, calming the storm inside him. “I’ll do it,” he whispered, the decision starting to solidify in his heart. “But only when I’m ready. I can’t rush this.”
Lestat nodded, understanding. “I won’t push you, Louis. But when the time comes, know that I’ll be there. I’ll help you.”
Louis let out a shaky breath, feeling a weight lift from his chest. No matter how difficult this journey would be, he wasn’t alone. For the first time in years, he had someone by his side who truly understood him. And that meant more than anything else.
“Thank you,” Louis murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
Lestat smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Louis’s face. “You don’t need to thank me. We’re in this together, Louis. Always.”
And for the first time, Louis believed it. They were in this together.
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Chapter 12: The Scary Truth…
Chapter Text
Text message — 10:42 AM
Louis:
Hey. Got a sec?
I was wondering if I could come by and talk. Something kind of… personal.
Text message — 10:45 AM
Daniel:
Sure. Come by anytime after noon.
Armand will be here too, if that’s okay?
Text message — 10:46 AM
Louis:
Yeah. That’s fine. Thanks, Daniel.
It was just a conversation. That’s what Louis kept telling himself as he crossed the city toward Daniel’s apartment, trying not to overthink the weight of what he was about to ask.
The truth was, it had been sitting in him for weeks. Maybe longer.
He’d spent so much of his life living on autopilot,playing the perfect son, the future CEO, the man who never let emotion blur his judgment. And now, after everything with Lestat… after the letter, the rooftop, the morning after.
He couldn’t keep pretending anymore.
Daniel greeted him barefoot at the door, holding a cup of coffee and wearing a t-shirt that read Talk fast, I’m caffeinated. Classic.
“Hey,” Daniel said, stepping aside to let him in. “Armand’s in the living room. Don’t worry, he’s in soft mode today.”
Louis chuckled lightly, tension easing from his shoulders as he stepped inside. The apartment was warm, lived-in, and smelled faintly of incense and strong coffee.
Armand was curled on the couch with a book, but looked up and nodded. “Bonjour, Louis.”
“Hey,” Louis said. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“You’re not,” Armand replied, marking his page and setting the book aside. “Daniel said you wanted to talk?”
Louis nodded and followed Daniel into the kitchen, where they both grabbed drinks before settling in at the small dining table. Armand stayed nearby, lounging with one ear on the conversation.
“So,” Daniel said, sipping his coffee, “what’s going on?”
Louis looked down at his hands, then back up. “I want to tell my mom. About me. About Lestat. But I don’t know how.”
Daniel blinked once, then leaned back in his chair. “Ah.”
Louis braced for teasing, sarcasm,anything that would make this feel lighter, even if it stung. But Daniel just gave him a nod and said, “That’s a big step.”
Louis exhaled, grateful for the lack of drama.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted. “She’s… traditional. And we’re not exactly close like we used to be. Everything’s business, expectations. I’m afraid she’s going to think this makes me weak.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me loving someone makes you weak?”
Louis didn’t answer right away. The silence was enough.
Armand stirred slightly. “If you’re asking how to make her understand, you may not be able to. Not at first.” He paused, voice calm. “But it’s not about her understanding. It’s about your freedom.”
Daniel looked over at Armand with a soft smile, then back at Louis. “I came out late too. Not to my family,most of them were already gone,but to the world. I was scared, man. Thought it’d cost me everything. Instead, it gave me more.”
“But it’s my mother,” Louis said. “She’s never asked if I’m happy,just if I’m focused. And I know she sees me as her investment, her project.”
“Then maybe she needs to see who you are when you’re not performing,” Daniel said, setting his mug down. “Don’t go in with a speech. Go in with the truth.”
Louis leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his face. “What did you say, when you told someone the first time?”
Daniel laughed softly. “You want the real story?”
Louis nodded.
“I was nineteen, drunk, and shouted it across a dorm hallway at two in the morning because someone called my boyfriend ‘just a friend.’ So… not exactly poetic.”
Louis cracked a small smile.
Armand chimed in without looking away from his book. “He’s being modest. He actually told me by accidentally saying our bed in front of a journalist.”
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that too.”
Louis looked between them, a little stunned. They made it seem so… possible. Not easy, but survivable.
“Do you think I should tell my siblings too?” Louis asked. “Grace, Paul…”
“I’d start with whoever you trust the most,” Daniel said. “And whoever you think will react with kindness. Sometimes you need a little buffer before facing the big boss.”
Louis snorted. “That would be Grace, then.”
Daniel nodded. “Then tell her. Practice with her, if you need to.”
There was a long pause. Louis stared at his hands again, then finally said, “Lestat already told Gabrielle.”
Daniel’s brows rose. “Whoa. How’d that go?”
Louis gave him a look. “She invited me to lunch.”
Armand laughed, surprisingly. “That’s almost a compliment, from her.”
Louis smiled faintly. “He said she wasn’t surprised.”
“Of course not,” Daniel said. “Moms know. Even when they act like they don’t.”
He stood and gave Louis a gentle slap on the shoulder. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… breathe. Don’t make it perfect. Make it real.”
Louis nodded, the knot in his stomach loosening, just a little.
As he got up to leave, Armand spoke quietly behind him. “Being seen is scary. But it’s also the beginning of love.”
Louis paused in the doorway and glanced back at both of them.Daniel in his usual relaxed chaos, Armand calm and unreadable,and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel alone.
“Thanks,” he said. “Really.”
“Anytime,” Daniel said. “Text us when it’s done. We’ll bring wine.”
The cool evening air hit him the moment he stepped out of their apartment building, but it couldn’t compete with the warmth lingering in his chest. Daniel’s words had stuck,don’t make it perfect, make it real. He repeated it like a mantra as he walked back to his car, hands in his pockets, the faintest curve of a smile on his lips.
Once inside, he sat in the driver’s seat without starting the engine. He stared out through the windshield, city lights blurring in the glass. Then, he took out his phone.
LOUIS:
Thanks again. I really needed that.
A reply came a moment later.
DANIEL:
Anytime. You’ve got this. Tell Grace first.
DANIEL:
Paul will come around later. And if not, we’ll drag him to a wine night and make him listen to Armand rant about love.
Louis chuckled softly.
He scrolled down to Grace’s name in his contacts. His thumb hovered over it for a few seconds before he pressed “Message.”
LOUIS:
Hey, Gracie. Think we could meet soon? Just you and me? I need to talk to you about something.
The typing dots popped up quickly, then disappeared. Then again. Then a reply came.
GRACE:
Of course. Everything okay?
LOUIS:
Yeah. I just need a sister moment.
GRACE:
Say no more. Just tell me when.
Louis leaned back, his pulse slowing. That hadn’t been so bad. One step down.
He glanced at the time. 9:42 PM. He thought about texting Lestat, telling him about the visit,but stopped. Not yet. He wanted to do this part alone.
Still, he couldn’t help thinking of Lestat, the way his expression had softened when he said Gabrielle already knew. The way he hadn’t pressured Louis to do the same, just waited,quietly.
Louis started the engine and pulled away from the curb. The conversation with Florence would come soon. But for the first time in his life, he felt ready.
Or close enough.
Louis had been pacing his living room for fifteen minutes when Grace finally texted that she was downstairs. He pressed his palm flat against his chest, trying to quiet the storm behind his ribs. This was the step he had chosen, the one Daniel said would be easier. But easier didn’t mean easy.
He buzzed her in and waited by the door, heart still thrumming. Grace’s footsteps were light, quick as always, and when she stepped in, she offered her usual teasing smile.
“You look like you’re about to go to war,” she said, setting her coat on the back of the chair. “Are you okay?”
Louis tried to smile. “Yeah. Just… had a long day.”
Grace flopped down onto the couch, curling one leg beneath her. “You said you wanted to talk. Sounds serious. Are you dying?”
“Not dying,” he said, dryly.
“Okay, then spill. You’ve been acting weird for days.”
He sat across from her, elbows on his knees. The space between them suddenly felt like miles.
“I wanted to talk to you about something important,” he said, voice tighter than he meant. “Something I should’ve said a long time ago.”
Her smile faded. She tilted her head. “You’re scaring me.”
“I don’t mean to.” He exhaled through his nose. “I’ve been keeping part of myself hidden because I thought it would be easier. And because I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. Especially… Mom. And Paul.”
Grace straightened a little. Her brows pulled in. “Okay…?”
“I’m gay.”
The silence that followed was unbearable. Louis watched her blink, then blink again, like she hadn’t quite heard him.
“You’re…” she started, then stopped. “Wait. Really?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“Since when?”
“Always,” he said. “I just…never said it out loud.”
Grace looked away for a second, then back at him. “So all that time… with the girls…?”
“Pretending,” he admitted. “Trying to be what everyone expected. What she expected.”
She chewed her lip. “Wow.”
“Grace, I’m still me,” he said quickly, almost defensively. “I just…need you to know. Before I tell Mom. And Paul.”
She let out a slow breath. “Okay. Okay. I mean,it’s a lot. But okay. I’m just… surprised. You’ve always been so…careful.”
“I know.”
“I’m not mad,” she said, and Louis felt something inside him loosen. “I just wish you’d told me sooner. I could’ve helped. Or at least, you know, stopped setting you up with every girl I met in college.”
Louis let out a short, tense laugh. “Yeah. That would’ve helped.”
Grace’s face softened. “You’re scared to tell Mom, huh?”
“Terrified.”
She nodded. “You should be.”
They both laughed at that,low, strained, but real.
“She’s not going to take it well,” Grace said after a moment. “And Paul… he’s worse. He’s been quoting the Bible like it’s a sports channel lately.”
“I figured.”
“But I’ll help however I can. Just… promise me you’ll be okay no matter what happens.”
“I’m trying.”
Grace got up and crossed the room, pulling him into a hug. “You don’t have to do this alone, Louis.”
His throat tightened as he nodded against her shoulder.
When she left an hour later, it was with a quiet promise to back him up, and a look that said she was still processing,but willing.
Once the door closed, Louis reached for his phone. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he typed:
LOUIS → DANIEL:
Told Grace. She took it better than I thought.
A moment later:
DANIEL:
Told you. You’re doing great.
Then:
LOUIS → LESTAT:
One down.
LESTAT:
You’re brave, mon cœur. I’m proud of you.
Louis smiled, then stared out the window, where the evening sky was shifting from dusk to indigo. He still had one more battle to face.
No,two.
Florence.
And Paul.
But for the first time, he didn’t feel like he’d be facing them alone.
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Chapter 13: Gabrielle
Summary:
You thought😂this was too happy
Chapter Text
The elevator ride to the top floor was silent, except for the faint mechanical hum and the soft, steady tapping of Lestat’s fingers against his thigh. Louis stood beside him, arms crossed, trying not to let his nerves show. He stared straight ahead, watching the numbers climb.
This wasn’t a business meeting. Not exactly. Not anymore. Gabrielle already knew,they were certain of that. But this was the first time they were meeting her face to face. Together. As something more than old rivals.
Lestat hadn’t stopped pacing in Louis’s apartment earlier that morning. Now, he stood unnervingly calm. In his tailored gray suit and signature smirk, he looked ready for war. Louis, dressed in black, stood tall but quiet. Measured. He didn’t want to give Gabrielle anything she could use to cut him down.
When the elevator stopped with a soft chime, Lestat reached out and pressed his palm lightly against Louis’s lower back. The touch was fleeting but grounding. Louis stepped forward.
Before they could knock, the penthouse door opened.
Gabrielle de Lioncourt stood in the doorway, barefoot, poised, dressed in ivory silk. Her hair was swept back, her expression unreadable.
“You’re late,” she said, stepping aside without a smile.
Lestat didn’t miss a beat. “We’re exactly on time.”
Gabrielle raised a brow. “Then I must be early.”
Louis offered a polite nod as he stepped inside. The penthouse was everything he expected: clean lines, cold stone floors, glass walls that framed the city like artwork. There was no warmth in the space. Only elegance, distance, control.
No offer of drinks. No gestures of hospitality. Just a quiet motion toward the sunken living area, where leather furniture was arranged like sculpture.
“Sit,” Gabrielle said, as if they were guests in an interview, not her son and,whatever Louis was now.
They obeyed.
She sat across from them, one leg folded neatly over the other. Her gaze drifted to where Lestat’s hand rested loosely on the back of the couch, close,maybe too close,to Louis’s shoulder. She said nothing about it.
“I understand,” she began, voice calm, “that this… entanglement isn’t temporary.”
Louis met her eyes. “It’s not.”
Gabrielle nodded slightly.
“And I’m to believe this is more than personal? That you intend to combine legacies. Professionally.”
Lestat’s jaw tightened. “It’s been discussed...”
Gabrielle tilted her head slightly, studying them like rare paintings.
“And your family is aware, Louis?”
Louis inhaled quietly.
“My father is gone,” he said. “And my siblings… not yet. But I’m working up to it.”
Her gaze lingered on him longer than felt comfortable. Then she turned her attention to her son.
“And you’re ready to bring the son of your father’s old rival into our fold? Publicly?”
Lestat didn’t hesitate. “I already have.”
Gabrielle leaned back, her eyes narrowing slightly. The silence that followed was thick.
“No hesitation,” she murmured. “Not even a moment of doubt.”
Louis didn’t speak, but Lestat did. “If I hesitated every time someone didn’t approve of my choices, I’d still be living in your guest house.”
That earned the smallest flicker of amusement from Gabrielle,but just as quickly, it was gone.
She exhaled.
“This isn’t about disapproval, Lestat. It’s about scrutiny. About what people will say. What investors will assume. What enemies will whisper.”
“We’ve heard worse,” Louis said calmly. “And we’re not asking for permission.”
Gabrielle’s lips thinned.
“No. You’re just warning me.”
Her tone wasn’t angry,but it wasn’t soft either. She wasn’t yelling. She didn’t need to. Gabrielle’s power came from control, and in this room, she still held most of it.
Gabrielle rose from her chair with quiet precision and walked toward the wide windows overlooking the skyline. Her arms folded across her chest, posture immaculate, like a sculpture carved into silence.
“You know,” she said, voice soft but sharp, “your father used to say that alliances were only as strong as the people holding them. That trust built in private means nothing if it can’t survive public heat.”
Louis watched her carefully. “My father also taught me to stand my ground. Even when the fire’s coming from inside the family.”
Gabrielle didn’t turn. “Yes. And he died for that stubbornness.”
The words hit like a slap,not because they were cruel, but because they were pointed. Cold. A blade disguised as an observation.
Lestat shifted beside him.
“Mom.” he warned.
She finally turned, her gaze slicing straight through Louis. “Do you truly believe you’re ready for what this means? For what you’ve invited into your life? You’ve chosen not just my son, but everything that comes with him. The spotlight. The speculation. The power plays.”
Louis’s voice stayed even. “Yes.”
She stared at him a moment longer, and then her eyes flicked back to her son.
“And you?” she asked.
Lestat’s smile was slow. “I’ve been ready longer than you think.”
Gabrielle walked toward them again, stopping behind the couch. She placed her hands lightly on the leather, one behind each of their heads, and leaned forward,too close.
“This isn’t a romance novel,” she said. “It’s legacy. You don’t get to make mistakes at this level without consequences.”
Louis turned his head slowly to meet her eyes. “We’re aware.”
“And still,” Gabrielle said, straightening, “you came here together. Not to ask. Just to show me your unity.”
Lestat stood, finally, and Louis followed. He didn’t take Louis’s hand, but the proximity between them said enough.
Gabrielle didn’t follow them to the door. She stood in the center of the room like a queen who had delivered a warning and didn’t need to repeat herself.
Just before leaving, Lestat turned back to her. “You said once that love was a distraction. That it weakens judgment.”
Gabrielle said nothing.
Lestat’s voice softened. “I think it sharpens it.”
Louis opened the door.
Gabrielle’s voice followed them out. “Then prove it.”
The elevator doors closed behind them with a soft mechanical sigh, and silence settled between them like fog. Louis leaned against the mirrored wall, arms crossed tightly, jaw set.
Lestat didn’t speak at first. He just stood there, watching the floor numbers drop, hands in his pockets.
“That went better than I expected,” he said at last.
Louis gave a low, humorless laugh. “If that was ‘better,’ I’d hate to see what worse looks like.”
Lestat tilted his head toward him. “She didn’t throw anything. Or threaten to cut off my access to the trust. That’s a win in Gabrielle terms.”
Louis looked at him sharply. “She called me stubborn like my father and implied I’d be crushed by all of this.”
“She’s testing you,” Lestat replied. “That’s what she does. She did it to every CEO that walked through our doors for fifteen years. Now she’s doing it to you.”
Louis looked down, shoulders tense. “I’m not one of your CEOs.”
“No,” Lestat said quietly, “you’re more important than that.”
The elevator chimed as it reached the ground floor.
They stepped out into the cool marble of the building’s lobby. The doorman nodded at them as they passed, but Louis barely noticed.
Outside, the evening air had turned crisp. Lights shimmered across glass towers, traffic pulsed along the streets below. The city kept moving, oblivious to their world of bloodlines and scrutiny.
Louis stopped at the curb. “Do you think she’s going to come after me now? In the press, maybe? Or through the board?”
Lestat turned to face him fully. “No. If she does anything, it’ll be subtle. She won’t ruin your reputation. She’ll wait for you to trip.”
Louis looked at him, something flickering in his eyes. “You really know how to reassure your man.”
Lestat smirked. “I don’t do comfort. I do honesty.”
“I noticed.”
They stood in silence for a beat.
Then Lestat added, a little softer, “But I’ll be there. If she tries anything.”
Louis glanced over. “Why? Because we’re business partners now?”
Lestat’s eyes darkened. “Because I love you.”
The words landed heavy between them, even though they’d been said before. But here, in the aftermath of Gabrielle’s cold assessment, they hit different. Raw. Vulnerable.
Louis looked away. “Don’t say that like it’s a shield.”
“I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Louis exhaled, slow and tight. “We should go.”
“My place?”
Louis didn’t answer right away.
Then: “Yeah.”
The car came to a slow stop, the quiet hum of the engine fading into the cool evening air as Louis and Lestat sat in the vehicle, still reeling from their meeting with Gabrielle. There was a silence between them, thick with unspoken words, as the car pulled into the familiar parking garage near Lestat’s apartment.
The building loomed ahead, sleek and modern, bathed in the soft light of the streetlamps. It had once been a symbol of Lestat’s unyielding drive and success. But tonight, it felt different.
Tonight, it felt like a place that had witnessed the rise of too many storms and perhaps even the end of something.
They stepped out of the car, the chill of the night air brushing against their skin. Lestat was the first to move, his posture stiff as he made his way toward the entrance of the apartment building. Louis followed him, unsure of the emotions swirling inside him. He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved to be home, or whether he still felt the sting of the confrontation with Gabrielle.
And then, as they reached the front door to the building, the figure of Nicholas appeared from the shadows.
Nicholas stood there, leaning casually against a pillar, his smirk betraying a sense of familiarity with the place. His features had softened over the years, but there was still that unmistakable presence about him,the kind that commanded attention, even after all this time. His eyes locked onto Lestat’s with an almost unreadable expression.
“You’re back early,” Nicholas said, his voice casual but edged with something darker.
Lestat’s gaze hardened, but he didn’t immediately respond. Instead, he glanced at Louis, whose posture had stiffened at the sight of Nicholas. Louis could feel the tension between them, thick and tangible. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken history.
“I didn’t expect you to be waiting here,” Lestat finally said, his tone clipped. “What do you want?”
Nicholas pushed off the pillar and took a step closer, his hands shoved in the pockets of his coat. “You’ve always been predictable, Lestat. But I didn’t come here for pleasantries.” His gaze flickered to Louis, the implication in his eyes obvious. “I assume you’re still playing with fire?”
Louis shifted uncomfortably at the comment, but he stayed silent, sensing that the conversation was about to take a more tense turn.
“I don’t have time for games, Nicholas,” Lestat growled, his voice low and threatening. “If you’re here to stir trouble, I suggest you leave.”
Nicholas’s lips curled into a smirk, but there was something colder behind his eyes. “I’m not here to stir trouble, Lestat. But it’s obvious you’ve moved on, and I’m curious how long that will last.”
Lestat clenched his jaw, his body tensing as if ready to snap. He took a step forward, pulling Nicholas away from Louis to a quieter corner of the apartment building’s entrance, an area shaded from the streetlights. The shadows seemed to heighten the tension between them, the silence of the night amplifying the weight of what had to be said.
“Don’t,” Lestat warned in a low voice, his tone commanding. “Don’t pretend like you care now. You made your choice years ago.”
Nicholas’s eyes flickered with something almost like regret, but he quickly masked it with a smirk. “I’m not pretending, Lestat. I know exactly what I did. But I also know this,your life has never been about love. It’s always been about power, control, and conquest. And now you’ve thrown that all away for him.” He nodded in Louis’s direction, his words dripping with venom.
Louis stiffened, but he didn’t say a word. He had heard enough of the bitterness in Nicholas’s tone, the jealousy that seemed to seep through every word.
Lestat’s hand curled into a fist at his side. “You don’t get to talk about him like that. You never did, and you sure as hell don’t get to now.”
“Is that so?” Nicholas retorted with a mocking chuckle. “You think you’ve changed? You’ve always been the same, Lestat. You’ll push him away just like you’ve pushed everyone else away. It’s what you do best.”
Lestat’s jaw tightened, but he took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm the rising anger inside him. “You don’t know me anymore. And I’m not going to stand here and let you insult him.”
Nicholas gave a short, humorless laugh. “I don’t need to insult anyone. The truth does that just fine.”
There was a long pause, the silence heavy with the weight of years of unresolved tension between the two men. The air between them crackled with the remnants of their shared history, the things unsaid but understood.
Finally, Lestat took a step back, his eyes narrowing. “Get out of here, Nicholas. I’m done with this conversation.”
Nicholas held his ground for a moment longer, his gaze flickering between Lestat and Louis, before he exhaled sharply. “Fine. I’ll leave. But don’t say I didn’t warn you, Lestat. You’ll regret this.”
With that, he turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the quiet night air.
Lestat stood there for a moment, watching Nicholas’s retreating figure, the weight of the argument still hanging over him. He took a deep breath, his eyes closing briefly as if trying to shake off the anger that still simmered inside him.
Louis stepped forward, his hand brushing against Lestat’s arm. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft.
Lestat didn’t immediately answer. He simply nodded, his expression unreadable as he glanced back at Louis. “I’m fine,” he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction.
Louis knew better than to push. He simply stood beside him, the two of them facing the empty street as the silence between them lingered.
Finally, Lestat spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “That’s the last time I’ll see him. He doesn’t matter anymore.”
Louis didn’t reply, but the weight of his words hung in the air between them. They had both been through too much for anything to tear them apart now. They had reached the point of no return, and despite the tension, despite the unresolved feelings that lingered, Louis knew this much for sure: he wasn’t going anywhere.
But what was that feeling…..
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Chapter 14: Nicholas
Summary:
Sorry for the late chapter guyssss😣
Chapter Text
The silence followed them inside.
Lestat closed the door behind them with a soft click, the quiet swallowing up the sounds of the city. It was early evening, and the golden glow of the lamps in his penthouse apartment tried to soften the air between them, but Louis could still feel the echo of Nicholas’s voice. Of his presence. Like a shadow that clung to the walls.
Louis didn’t move at first. His shoulders were stiff, arms crossed. The taste of that brief moment of clarity,watching Lestat speak to his ex outside the building,still burned on his tongue like too-strong coffee. He had wanted to believe he was above jealousy. Above insecurity. But the truth settled low in his stomach like a knot of iron.
“You want to tell me what that was?” Louis asked quietly, not turning around yet.
Lestat didn’t answer right away. Louis heard him exhale through his nose and slide off his coat, dropping it over the back of the velvet sofa like they hadn’t just walked away from a ghost.
“You saw what it was,” Lestat said at last, voice careful. “Nicholas showing up uninvited. He’s good at that.”
Louis turned to face him. “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”
“I’m not,” Lestat said, his jaw tightening slightly. “But I’m not about to make this into something it’s not, either.”
“You argued,” Louis said. “You looked…” He stopped, his hands twitching at his sides. “You looked like you were reliving something.”
“I was caught off guard. That’s all.”
“No,” Louis said, stepping further into the room now. “It’s not. You were angry. He was angry. That doesn’t come from nowhere. And I think I deserve to know what the hell is going on between you two.”
Lestat’s gaze flicked to him, unreadable. “There’s nothing going on between us. Not anymore.”
Louis tilted his head slightly, forcing a breath through his nose. “You told me once that Nicholas was a chapter you’d closed.”
“He is.”
“Then why did he look at you like he still owned you?”
That hit something. Lestat’s expression tightened. He walked to the bar and poured himself a drink with slightly more force than necessary, the glass clinking against the crystal bottle.
“I can’t control how he looks at me,” he said.
“You can control how you react to him,” Louis replied. “And right now, you’re shaking.”
Lestat stilled. His back was to Louis, his hand gripping the edge of the bar like he might fall if he let go. For a long beat, neither of them said anything. The tension sat heavy between them, dense and full of all the things they hadn’t said for years.
Louis softened, just a little. “I’m not trying to fight with you,” he said, quieter now. “But I need to know if you’re still carrying him with you. If there’s room for me in all that noise.”
Lestat turned. The drink in his hand went untouched. He looked tired. Or maybe just stripped raw in a way Louis hadn’t seen before.
“There was a time,” Lestat said slowly, “when I thought Nicholas was the only person who would ever understand me. We built something together,young and reckless and stupid. And I thought that meant it would last.”
Louis watched him carefully, not interrupting.
“But it didn’t,” Lestat continued. “It turned sour. He changed. I changed. We were toxic together, and when it ended, it was like ripping out a part of myself. But it ended.”
“Then why did he come here?”
“Because he doesn’t know how to let go,” Lestat said, setting the glass down. “And maybe… maybe I didn’t make it as clear as I should’ve that it was really over.”
Louis’s chest ached. “Why not?”
Lestat took a few steps closer, hesitating as if unsure how close was allowed. “Because when you left me the first time, I didn’t think I deserved anything better than him.”
The words hung between them, brutal and bare. Louis blinked, stunned.
“I thought if I couldn’t have you,” Lestat said, voice low, “then maybe I deserved to settle for the wreckage of someone else.”
Louis’s throat was dry. His pulse was loud in his ears. “You didn’t,” he said finally. “You didn’t deserve that. And neither did I.”
“I know.”
A pause.
“Are you still in love with him?”
“No.” The answer came fast. Certain. “Not even close.”
Louis took a breath. Then another. The weight in his chest started to shift, a little. Not gone, but maybe manageable now.
Lestat reached for him slowly, like a man approaching something wild. “There’s no one else in my head but you,” he said. “Not anymore.”
Louis didn’t stop him when Lestat’s fingers brushed his arm. Didn’t flinch when he stepped closer, until they were almost touching.
But he needed more than words.
“You don’t get to say that unless you mean it,” Louis said, steady now. “And you don’t get to keep walking away from conversations like this.”
“I’m not walking,” Lestat said. “I’m standing right here.”
And he was.
So Louis let him.
Louis didn’t move.
Not yet.
Not while his heart still beat like this.
And Lestat didn’t push. He stood there, his fingers wrapped around Louis’s hand like a lifeline, patient in a way he hadn’t always been. That was new. That was terrifying.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” Lestat murmured.
Louis raised his eyes to him. “Then don’t.”
The space between them collapsed slowly, like gravity pulling them together,inevitable, dangerous. Louis let himself be drawn in, let his chest brush against Lestat’s, let their foreheads meet in the hush of the apartment. Outside, the city buzzed, distant and irrelevant.
“I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel what I feel,” Lestat said softly. “I know I’ve hurt you. I know I still might. But you,Louis, you are the only person I have ever looked at and thought: God help me, I want this to work.”
Louis’s breath caught.
He didn’t have an answer,not a verbal one, at least. Not yet. But his hand reached up, curled into the back of Lestat’s neck, and pulled him forward. The kiss came not like fire, but like thunder ,rolling, inevitable, shaking something deep and locked away inside him.
Their mouths met with need. Not the frantic, explosive kind,but something heavier. Older. It was a kiss made of everything they hadn’t said in weeks. Months. Maybe years. It was the kind of kiss you don’t come back from.
Lestat sighed into it, arms wrapping tight around Louis’s waist, grounding him.
Louis didnt move.
But he did pull back just far enough to whisper, “If you lie to me again, I’m gone.”
Lestat nodded. “I won’t.”
Their foreheads stayed pressed together, eyes shut, breathing shared like a secret.
Louis didn’t know what came next,if trust could be rebuilt, if desire was enough to sustain them. But in that moment, standing in Lestat’s apartment, the air thick with everything unsaid, he chose to believe that maybe,just maybe,they could try.
The room felt colder now, though they hadn’t moved. Louis could feel Lestat’s warmth pressing into him, still, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the tension that lingered between them like a heavy fog. His chest was tight, and his throat ached with the things he wanted to say but couldn’t.
Lestat was still watching him, eyes soft but searching, as if trying to read something he wasn’t sure was there. But Louis wasn’t ready to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Not yet.
“You know,” Louis finally said, his voice quiet but steady, “I don’t think you get it.”
Lestat stiffened slightly, a flash of defensiveness crossing his face. But he didn’t interrupt.
“I don’t think you understand what it’s like for me to be here, standing in front of you,” Louis continued, his words coming faster now, a surge of frustration building. “I have a family, Lestat. I have responsibilities. And I’m not some… some plaything you can just…”
“Louis,” Lestat interrupted, stepping forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not trying to…”
Louis shrugged him off, eyes flashing with irritation. “No, you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to tell me that it’s all going to be fine when you’ve never cared about what I’ve been through, what I’m going through, what my life has been like.”
Lestat’s expression darkened, and for the briefest of moments, Louis thought he might snap, but then his shoulders relaxed.
“I don’t get to say it, huh?” Lestat said softly, his voice barely a whisper. “Maybe that’s because you’ve never told me. Not the whole truth, anyway.”
Louis stopped. For a moment, he thought he heard the sharp sting of accusation in Lestat’s tone, but when he looked at him, there was only something deeper. Something like regret,or maybe understanding.
“It’s not the same, Lestat,” Louis murmured, the anger in his chest starting to cool, leaving only the cold ache that he had been avoiding for far too long. “You’re not the one who has to face a life of rejection and whispers behind your back, a life of constantly having to be someone else just to survive.”
The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, before Lestat spoke again. “I don’t know what that’s like. Not fully. But you don’t have to carry it alone, Louis.”
Louis turned his face away, his breath hitching at the vulnerability in Lestat’s words. He was so tired of feeling alone,tired of carrying the weight of his family’s expectations, the fear of their rejection. But he had spent so many years living under the pressure of their judgment that he didn’t know how to let go.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Louis said, his voice barely above a whisper, as he looked at Lestat, his expression filled with conflict. “I don’t know if I can walk into that life with you, with everything that comes with it.”
Lestat’s hand gently cupped his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze again. There was no judgment there,just something far more vulnerable. Something Louis hadn’t seen before.
“Then we take it one step at a time,” Lestat said quietly. “Together. No more hiding, no more running away.”
Louis’s breath caught. It wasn’t that simple, not really. But maybe,just maybe,there was a part of him that wanted to try. That wanted to be honest with himself. With Lestat.
He closed his eyes, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I’m scared,” he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Lestat’s thumb brushed against his skin, soft and reassuring. “I am too.”
Louis opened his eyes to find Lestat watching him with an intensity that took his breath away. And for the first time in so long, Louis didn’t feel the weight of the world pressing down on him. Maybe, just maybe, he could trust again. Maybe he could have something real.
The moment stretched on, taut and fragile. And then, as if the weight of it all had been too much to bear for both of them, Lestat closed the space between them once more. This time, Louis didn’t pull away. He didn’t hesitate.
Their lips met again, and this time, it wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t a question.
It was a promise.
As the last remnants of their passion faded, Louis lay next to Lestat, the silence between them comfortable, yet laced with a growing unease. The warmth of Lestat’s skin against his was still fresh, but Louis couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted, something he couldn’t quite name.
The events of the night, the kiss with Lestat, felt like a culmination of everything that had been building up for so long, yet the conversation they’d had just before it,the encounter with Nicholas,kept echoing in his mind. Louis shifted, turning to face Lestat, who seemed content, resting with his eyes closed, a small smile still playing on his lips.
But Louis couldn’t silence the questions, the doubts that had been gnawing at him all night.
“You didn’t tell me everything about Nicholas, did you?” Louis asked, his voice quiet, but laced with an edge of unease.
Lestat opened his eyes slowly, raising an eyebrow at him, though his expression remained calm. “What do you mean?”
Louis hesitated, trying to find the right words, but they seemed to come out all at once. “When we saw him outside your apartment… you were angry. You didn’t just leave things in the past, did you? There’s more there, something you haven’t told me.”
Lestat didn’t immediately respond, his gaze shifting as if he were weighing his words carefully. Finally, he sat up, running a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping his lips.
“I didn’t want you to get involved in that,” Lestat admitted, his voice a little more serious now. “Nicholas and I… we’ve had a complicated history. He was part of my life before all of this, and sometimes that’s hard to let go of. But that was before.”
Louis bit his lip, his mind reeling. He could feel the tension creeping in, but he forced himself to focus on what Lestat was saying. “And now? Is he really out of your life? Are you sure?”
Lestat didn’t answer immediately, his eyes focused on the floor. The air between them felt thick, as though they were both waiting for something, perhaps the right moment to address everything that had been left unsaid.
“I’m with you now, Louis,” Lestat said finally, his voice low and sincere. “I don’t need Nicholas. But there’s a history there that I can’t just erase. He was… important to me once.”
Louis felt a pang in his chest. The idea of Nicholas still being a part of Lestat’s life, even in some distant way, unsettled him. He wanted to believe Lestat, to trust him completely, but the knowledge of their past relationship,however long ago it might have been,left him feeling strange. The kiss they’d shared, the intimacy they’d just experienced, felt surreal now, as though something had been slightly tainted by the presence of Nicholas in the back of his mind.
“I don’t want to be just someone you settle for,” Louis said quietly, his voice betraying the vulnerability he felt deep inside. “I want to be… your choice. Not a rebound.”
Lestat’s gaze softened, and he reached for Louis, gently cupping his face with his hand. “Louis, you’re not just anyone. You’re the one I want, the one I choose. Nicholas… that’s ancient history. I won’t let him interfere with us.”
But Louis couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. There was still something in his gut telling him that the situation wasn’t as clear-cut as Lestat made it sound. He closed his eyes, trying to push aside the discomfort that lingered in his chest, but it was hard to ignore.
“You say that now,” Louis murmured, “but what if things change? What if you’re reminded of him?”
Lestat’s thumb brushed along Louis’s jawline, coaxing him to meet his eyes. “Nothing will change, Louis. I’m with you now. That’s all that matters. And I won’t let the past dictate our future.”
For a moment, Louis let the weight of Lestat’s words settle. He wanted to believe him, wanted to feel secure in the certainty Lestat was offering. But a part of him still lingered on the memories of Nicholas,his presence, the way Lestat had looked when they were outside, the unspoken tension between them.
“I just… need time,” Louis confessed, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and fear. “I don’t know how to get past this. The idea that you had a life before me, with someone else, it… it messes with my head.”
Lestat pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him in a comforting embrace. “I understand,” he said softly. “I didn’t expect it to be easy. But I’m here. We’ll figure it out. Together.”
Louis rested his head against Lestat’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his ear. There was solace in Lestat’s words, in the strength of his embrace, but the unease still lingered in Louis’s mind, unspoken and unresolved. For now, though, he allowed himself to feel the comfort of Lestat’s presence, to push aside the questions for just a moment.
But deep down, Louis knew that this wasn’t the end of the story. They weren’t done yet. There were still things they needed to work through, things Louis wasn’t ready to face. But for tonight, at least, he would stay with Lestat. He would find solace in the now, and deal with the rest later.
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Chapter 15: The Truth?
Summary:
Sorry if this is short, I’m sick right now ,so I couldn’t do much
Chapter Text
I couldn’t sleep.
Even after Lestat held me in his arms until I drifted off,his heartbeat steady under my cheek, his breath brushing the top of my head like a lullaby,I woke before dawn, restless and raw. The apartment was quiet. He was still sleeping beside me, unaware. Peaceful.
But something inside me wouldn’t settle.
That image of Nicholas standing on the porch of Lestat’s building,of Lestat stepping toward him without hesitation,was burned into my mind like a bruise under the skin. Their voices had been too low for me to make out every word, but the intensity, the familiarity, was unmistakable.
They had history.
And history was a dangerous thing.
I knew it before he told me. Before I asked. Before I even had the right to ask. And maybe that’s what scared me the most,how much I wanted to know, how much I feared what I’d hear.
I slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake him. I didn’t want to be questioned, didn’t want a half-truth delivered with a kiss or some charming deflection. I wanted answers. And if Lestat wouldn’t give them to me directly, maybe someone else could.
Someone who’d seen the beginning.
**
Armand answered the door with his usual stillness,like a statue that had come to life just to say, “You’re early.”
I didn’t even pretend to smile.
Daniel’s voice echoed from inside the apartment. “Armand, who is it?”
“Your favorite brooding guest.”
“Louis?” Daniel appeared behind Armand in a hoodie and joggers, holding a coffee mug that said WRITER IN CRISIS. He looked me up and down. “Jesus, you look like hell.”
I stepped inside. “Good morning to you too.”
**
Ten minutes later, I was curled on the worn leather couch with my own mug of coffee,black, no sugar. Armand was seated in his usual armchair, legs crossed, gaze unreadable. Daniel flopped down beside me, still yawning.
I didn’t waste time.
“I need to know about Nicholas.”
Daniel sat up straighter. Armand’s eyes sharpened.
“Lestat’s Nicholas?” Daniel asked.
“Yes.” I hesitated. “He showed up last night. Outside Lestat’s building. They talked. I didn’t hear much. But it shook me. And Lestat…” I exhaled slowly. “He didn’t really explain anything.”
Armand tilted his head, hands steepled in front of him. “You want the truth?”
“I want what you know.”
A silence stretched between us. I felt Daniel shift slightly, like he was bracing himself too.
“Then you’d better listen carefully,” Armand said. “Because nothing about Nicholas was ever simple.”
Louis sat stiffly in Armand and Daniel’s living room, the scent of old books and bergamot lingering in the air. Afternoon light filtered through the wide windows, casting long stripes across the polished floor. Daniel was in the kitchen, supposedly making tea, though Louis was certain he was listening in.
Armand sat across from him, legs crossed, fingers steepled beneath his chin. He regarded Louis with a gaze that was almost too calm.
“You came for a reason,” Armand said, voice soft but firm. “Not just to sit in awkward silence.”
Louis didn’t smile. “I want to know about Nicholas. And Lestat.”
Armand’s brows lifted slightly. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Louis.”
“This isn’t jealousy,” he snapped, too fast. “This is me trying to understand something Lestat won’t talk about.”
“Ah.” Armand’s gaze drifted toward the window. “You’ve known him since you were children, haven’t you? That tends to complicate things.”
Louis’s jaw tightened. “We met when we were kids, yes. But there’s a lot he kept from me.
Nicholas being one of them.”
“Then it’s not just the past,” Armand said, quietly. “It’s the fact that he didn’t trust you enough to share it.”
Louis looked away, throat tightening.
Armand leaned forward. “Lestat and Nicholas… they were more than close. And it ended badly. Violently, even. What you saw on that sidewalk was a ghost trying to claw its way back into his life.”
Louis blinked. “So what am I now? The replacement?”
“No,” Armand said. “You’re the storm after the silence. That’s what terrifies him.”
Louis stared at him, chest hollow. From the kitchen, Daniel’s voice floated in casually. “He’s not wrong, you know.”
Louis turned toward the sound, pulse flickering.
Daniel stepped in with two mugs and set them down. “He kept it from you because he didn’t want to lose you too.”
Armand looked over, then nodded once. “And because he’s still afraid of who he was back then.”
Louis sat back, the tea untouched. “I need to talk to him.”
“Then do it,” Armand said, almost gently. “But don’t expect him to give you everything all at once. Not even to you.”
Louis didn’t answer right away. But as he pulled out his phone and typed out a message to Lestat…Can we talk? Tonight?,his fingers trembled slightly.
The message sat on the screen, “Delivered,” but not yet read.
Louis tucked the phone into his pocket and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The tension in his chest had eased slightly, but not enough to breathe freely. His talk with Armand had confirmed something deeper than he wanted to admit,he wasn’t just haunted by Nicholas. He was haunted by the version of Lestat that had existed before him.
Daniel sat across from him now, legs casually sprawled, watching Louis with that same sharpness he used in interviews. “You still love him,” he said.
Louis didn’t blink. “I never said I didn’t.”
“You didn’t have to,” Daniel said, then took a slow sip of tea.
Armand remained silent, his gaze a little softer than before.
Louis cleared his throat. “Thank you…for being honest. Both of you.”
Daniel smirked slightly. “We don’t know how to be anything else.”
Louis rose, his hands smoothing his coat. “I should go. I don’t want to overstay.”
“You never do,” Armand said simply, standing with him. “If he doesn’t give you what you need,don’t forget you have the right to walk away. Even love doesn’t make that price negotiable.”
Louis nodded, heart beating heavily behind his ribs. “I know.”
He left the apartment with the cold air catching in his throat. As he stepped into the elevator, his phone buzzed.
Lestat: Come over. I’m here.
Louis stared at the screen for a long second, then replied.
Louis: On my way.
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Chapter 16: Why do you take his Defense?
Summary:
Sorry again I’m super sick and this all I can do
Chapter Text
Louis stood outside Lestat’s apartment building, his breath catching in the cool evening air. The city’s lights flickered like stars, casting a hazy glow over the pavement. His mind felt crowded, thoughts scattering like shards of glass, none of them sharp enough to focus on. He stared at the building, wondering which window was Lestat’s, which one had seen Nicholas leave, and whether it had all been some cruel misunderstanding.
The elevator ride up to the apartment was brief but felt endless. Louis couldn’t shake the image of Nicholas, standing there in the corner of the street, his eyes narrowing as he spoke to Lestat. There had been an undercurrent, something he couldn’t place, but it made his stomach churn. He had to know if he was wrong, if his fears were justified, or if he was just projecting his insecurities.
Lestat was waiting for him when the door buzzed open. He stood just inside, casually leaning against the doorframe, a shirt half-buttoned and eyes that held a sharpness Louis hadn’t quite expected. His mouth was set in a tight line, and for the first time, Louis saw how guarded he looked. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut through.
“You’re early,” Lestat said, his voice sharp.
Louis barely suppressed a snort, his irritation flickering. “You buzzed me in before I even pressed the button.”
Lestat shrugged, that same defensiveness hanging in his posture. “So you were late.”
Louis didn’t bother with a reply. He stepped inside, glancing around the sleek apartment. The same minimalist design, the same immaculate setup, but it didn’t feel like home anymore. Not since that encounter with Nicholas.
The door clicked shut behind him, and Lestat moved to the side, but not far enough for Louis to step past him. The air between them was thick, unspoken words circling.
Louis took a deep breath, his voice quiet but firm. “You didn’t mention Nicholas was coming by.”
Lestat’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t know he would,” he said, his tone clipped. “I didn’t ask him to come.”
“But you didn’t send him away, either.” Louis’s voice was sharp now, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.
Lestat’s eyes flickered with something,annoyance, anger, maybe even a hint of guilt,but he quickly masked it with a shrug. “What do you want me to say, Louis? He was leaving when you showed up.”
Louis didn’t back down, his gaze never leaving Lestat’s. “You pulled him into a corner. You argued.”
Lestat’s eyes narrowed, his shoulders tense. “And then he left. What’s your point?”
“My point?” Louis took a step closer, his words quiet but heavy. “You don’t think it’s strange that I stood next to you, and suddenly I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be there? That he might still have some kind of claim on you?”
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Lestat’s face flickered with a mix of frustration and something else,something Louis couldn’t quite decipher. Lestat looked away, his hand running through his hair as if the motion could calm the storm raging inside him.
“I haven’t seen him in years,” Lestat muttered, his voice low.
“But you defended him. You’re still defending him.”
Lestat’s jaw clenched. “He doesn’t need defending.”
Louis shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You think I’m just supposed to accept that? You think I’m supposed to just… let it go? You’ve had history with him. He’s a part of your past. How am I supposed to know if I’m in your present, Lestat?”
For a moment, Lestat didn’t speak, his eyes searching Louis’s face as if trying to find something,an answer, a reason, or perhaps the same certainty that was missing in Louis’s own heart.
“I’m here,” Lestat said at last, his voice strained. “I’m with you now.”
Louis’s chest tightened. He stared at Lestat, trying to read the truth in his eyes, but all he saw was uncertainty. A vague promise of something more, but nothing solid enough to hold on to.
“Then why do I feel like I’m competing with a ghost?” Louis murmured, barely above a whisper.
Lestat flinched, his expression shifting just enough to betray the rawness of the words.
“You’re not,” Lestat said softly, his voice cracking slightly. “But I can’t change the past. I can’t undo it.”
Louis felt a knot form in his stomach, something dark and heavy threatening to choke him. He stepped back, suddenly feeling distant, as if the space between them had expanded into something he couldn’t navigate.
“You want me to just forget about him,” Louis said, almost to himself. “But I can’t. Not when he keeps showing up. Not when you keep defending him.”
The words hung in the air, unresolved and burning. Lestat’s gaze never left him, but it was clear he didn’t know how to respond, how to bridge the gap between them.
And so, they stood there,locked in that silence, both of them afraid to speak the truths that were threatening to spill over.
It was a silence that stretched for far too long. Neither of them willing to break it, even though they both knew the air was thick with everything that had been left unsaid.
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Chapter 17: The Weight Of Knowing
Summary:
Daniel and Armand perceptive
Notes:
Sorry you guys for not posting😔
I feel much better now and will continue this story!
I’ve got news!i shall start a new story still about lestat Louis and would be quite happy if you guys gave recommendations about what you guys fancies!
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(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Daniel’s Apartment, Late Evening
The quiet of the apartment was deceptive. From the windows, the city buzzed,lights pulsing like veins, sirens carving the night in distant wails. But inside, everything was still. Daniel sat at the edge of the couch, phone face-down on the coffee table, untouched since Louis had left hours ago.
Armand leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, hair still damp from a recent shower. He watched Daniel, his gaze unreadable, but intent. Daniel hadn’t spoken much since the door closed behind their friend. He’d just nodded, muttered something about “needing to think,” and sat exactly where he was now, shoulders hunched, jaw tight.
“He’s not okay,” Daniel said finally. His voice was rough, but measured. “Louis. I mean… obviously.”
Armand stepped into the living room, barefoot and silent. “He came for reassurance,” he said. “But I think he wanted permission to worry.”
Daniel nodded. “He’s not the type to ask straight out. He needs someone to make it okay for him to say what he’s afraid of.”
“Do you think he regrets being with Lestat?” Armand asked.
Daniel’s mouth twitched. “No. I think he regrets not being with him sooner.”
A silence stretched between them. Not awkward,familiar. It had been months now since they moved in together. Years since they’d circled each other with the kind of tension that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with history. Now, they had the rhythm of a relationship built quietly, piece by piece, without spectacle. But not without fire.
Armand came to sit beside him, their knees brushing.
“You knew Lestat and Nicholas. Back then.” Daniel’s tone shifted,curious, but sharp. “Was it anything like this? Like what Louis is dealing with now?”
Armand looked away, exhaling slowly. “Worse,” he said. “Because neither of them knew what they wanted.”
Daniel tilted his head. “And Lestat now?”
“He knows what he wants,” Armand said. “But he’s afraid of losing it. And that’s when he makes the worst decisions.”
Daniel scoffed. “No shit.”
They fell into quiet again. Outside, the wind rattled against the windowpane. Armand glanced at the clock,close to midnight. The night was thinning out, stretching itself long and silver across the hardwood floors.
“He’s pushing Louis,” Daniel murmured. “Pushing him right to the edge.”
“Yes,” Armand said. “And if he’s not careful, he’s going to watch him fall.”
Daniel leaned back against the couch, one arm stretched along the top cushion, fingertips ghosting over Armand’s shoulder. “You ever think we’re better at helping everyone else than we are at handling our own shit?”
“All the time,” Armand said, dry. “Why do you think I hate mirrors?”
Daniel grinned. “Liar. You love mirrors.”
Armand’s lips curved, slow. “I love your mirror.”
Daniel’s gaze lingered on him, narrowing with something darker, heavier. The tension that had hovered in the background all evening shifted,coiled tighter. He reached out and touched Armand’s knee, fingers splayed. His voice dropped an octave.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Armand asked, his tone too innocent to be honest.
“Distract me.”
“You started it.”
Daniel leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of Armand’s ear. “You want to talk about the past. Or do you want to get out of your head for a while?”
Armand’s breath hitched, the shift in him almost immediate. It wasn’t often Daniel led like this,but when he did, it unraveled something in Armand. Something quiet and submissive, usually wrapped in elegance and self-control.
But tonight, it wasn’t Daniel who was unraveling.
Armand turned, eyes dark. “No games?”
“No games,” Daniel said. “I want you.”
A beat. Then Armand’s hand came up, sliding against Daniel’s jaw, thumb brushing his lower lip.
“Then take me.”
Armand’s breath was shallow, but his eyes burned with a heat Daniel hadn’t seen in a while,not like this. It wasn’t just desire. It was tension. The pressure of restraint threatening to break.
Daniel pulled him up from the couch without a word, their hands interlocked briefly before Armand stepped ahead, guiding them toward the bedroom like it had always been inevitable.
The light in the room was low,only the bedside lamp casting amber across the hardwood floors and the edge of the sheets. The city blinked in through the window, quiet and indifferent. Daniel stood still as Armand turned to face him. He didn’t speak. He just stared at him,like he was memorizing him, like he wanted to swallow whatever distance still existed between them.
Then Armand stepped forward, and it all shifted.
He kissed Daniel hard.
Not the usual way,not calculated, not slow. It was desperate. Controlled, yes, but urgent underneath. His fingers tangled in Daniel’s hair, holding him in place as his mouth moved with heat and precision, coaxing, taking. Daniel groaned, hands flying to Armand’s waist, clutching the hem of his shirt before dragging it upward and off.
Armand pulled back just enough to let the shirt go. Then his hands were at Daniel’s, stripping him of his own shirt, baring him with a reverence that didn’t quite match the way his mouth found Daniel’s collarbone a second later,biting, sucking, leaving a mark behind like a promise.
“Bed,” Daniel said, breathless.
But Armand didn’t move.
Instead, he pushed Daniel back gently until the backs of his knees hit the mattress, and he sat down with a gasp. Armand dropped to his knees in front of him, hands gripping Daniel’s thighs, thumbs stroking against denim with a kind of focus that made Daniel’s pulse skip.
“I want you,” Armand said, voice low and rough. “But I want you to feel it. Every inch of it.”
Daniel’s hand tightened in Armand’s hair. “Then stop talking.”
Armand smirked,but only for a second.
Then he was undoing Daniel’s jeans, dragging them down with a care that bordered on dangerous. Slow. Intentional. He kissed his way up Daniel’s thigh, mouth warm against skin that shivered under every touch. Daniel let his head fall back, eyes fluttering closed as heat curled in his stomach, sharp and growing.
But Armand didn’t rush.
He took his time.
Everything he did was with purpose,mapping Daniel’s body like he hadn’t touched him a hundred times before. And when Daniel’s hips rolled forward in search of more, Armand pushed him back onto the bed completely and climbed over him.
Their mouths met again,hot, tangled, messy now. Armand’s weight grounded him, legs sliding between Daniel’s, pinning him just enough to make Daniel arch up into him, gasping against his lips.
When they moved together, it was rhythm and friction and need.
By the time they were both naked, the room felt like it had changed shape,like something in the air had cracked open. Daniel’s hands were everywhere,shoulders, chest, hips,trying to keep up with how fiercely Armand took him in.
But then Armand slowed again.
He leaned over, brushing Daniel’s hair back, lips at his temple. “You trust me?”
Daniel let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Good.”
Because the next few seconds were a blur,slick skin, Armand reaching for the drawer, the quiet click of a cap. The press of fingers, careful but firm. Daniel gasped, nails digging into Armand’s back as he adjusted, breath sharp in his throat.
“Shhh,” Armand whispered. “I’ve got you.”
And then he was there,pressing into Daniel in one smooth, slow motion that made both of them groan. Daniel’s legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, dragging him deeper, his eyes wide and mouth open, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure.
Armand didn’t rush.
He moved with control, with worship. Every thrust was deliberate, angled, and Daniel couldn’t think anymore,couldn’t speak. His hands found Armand’s shoulders, then his arms, needing to hold onto something solid as he was unraveled from the inside out.
“Armand,” Daniel breathed.
And Armand kissed him again, swallowing the sound, thrusting deeper, faster now. Daniel’s moans broke against his mouth, messy and raw, and Armand kept going,pushing, claiming, dragging them both closer to the edge with every motion.
“Don’t stop,” Daniel gasped. “Don’t you fucking stop…”
“I won’t,” Armand growled. “You feel so good like this. So tight. So perfect.”
And Daniel shattered.
It came like a wave,blinding, shaking. He came between them with a cry, hands fisting in Armand’s hair, chest arching up off the bed. Armand cursed, fucking him through it, losing rhythm as he chased his own release. It hit him seconds later,hard and breathless, his whole body tensing as he collapsed against Daniel, their skin sticky and hot.
For a long while, neither of them moved.
Just the sound of their breathing. The weight of the moment settling in like ash.
Armand nuzzled against Daniel’s neck, brushing his lips there. “You okay?”
Daniel chuckled weakly. “I can’t feel my legs.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
They stayed like that,tangled up, heartbeats slowly syncing. And beneath it all, the quiet knowledge that outside their bedroom, Louis and Lestat’s world was teetering on a knife’s edge.
But for now, they had each other.
And they weren’t letting go.
The sheets were twisted around their legs, half-kicked down to the foot of the bed, the room still thick with the weight of what they’d just done. But now it was quiet. Softer. Breathing even.
Daniel lay on his back, one arm thrown above his head, the other resting against Armand’s bare shoulder. Armand, sprawled on his stomach beside him, traced absent-minded lines on Daniel’s chest with the tips of his fingers.
No words at first. Just the rhythm of closeness that came with time and trust.
But eventually, the silence became too sharp around the edges.
Daniel sighed. “So.”
Armand didn’t stop tracing. “So.”
“Do you think they’ll survive this?”
“Louis and Lestat?” Armand finally looked up, expression unreadable. “You’ve seen them. You know what they are to each other.”
Daniel turned his head toward the window. The lights of the city blinked against the glass like stars. “That’s not what I asked.”
Armand rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “They’re magnets. Dangerous ones. They attract, they repel. It’s constant.”
Daniel huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. But eventually magnets wear down. Or shatter.”
There was a pause.
“They love each other,” Armand said, and it wasn’t quite hopeful,it was factual, like he was reciting something already etched in stone. “But love doesn’t always win.”
That made Daniel turn back to look at him, eyes narrowing. “You don’t think they’re strong enough?”
“I think they’re both strong. That’s the problem.” Armand’s voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something deeper in it. “Neither of them wants to break. But one of them might have to.”
Daniel studied him a moment, then reached out and smoothed Armand’s hair behind his ear. “You’re talking like someone who knows exactly what that’s like.”
Armand smiled faintly. “I’ve been on both sides of that equation.”
Daniel didn’t press further. He already knew the shape of Armand’s old wounds. The ones time didn’t quite erase.
“What do you think Nicholas wanted?” Daniel asked after a moment. “Showing up like that, outside Lestat’s place.”
Armand’s eyes darkened. “Closure. Control. Or maybe just to see if he could still twist the knife.”
Daniel exhaled slowly. “And Louis walked right into it.”
“He’s already questioning everything. Nicholas showing up just confirmed every insecurity he was trying to bury.”
Armand shifted closer, their legs brushing beneath the sheets.
“He’ll confront Lestat. He should,” Armand said. “But I don’t know what Lestat will say. And I don’t know if he’ll say it in a way that keeps Louis, rather than pushing him away again.”
Daniel stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “You ever think about how fragile all of this is? The love. The trust. It’s like… one wrong word and it all cracks.”
“It’s always been fragile,” Armand murmured. “But some things survive the cracks. Some even become more beautiful because of them.”
Daniel rolled onto his side and nudged Armand’s chest with his knuckles. “You getting sentimental on me?”
Armand kissed his forehead. “You bring it out of me.”
They both smiled.
But under it, there was still tension. A quiet unease neither of them could shake.
Because they’d seen enough,lived enough,to know that love, when mishandled, doesn’t just bruise. It scars.
And whatever happened next between Louis and Lestat would either deepen those scars,or become the moment they finally chose each other, fully, painfully, and without retreat.
Daniel closed his eyes. “You think we should do something?”
Armand considered it. “No. Not yet. This is their fight.”
“But if Louis ends up here again—”
“He’s welcome. Always.”
Silence settled between them again, not heavy this time but steady. A mutual understanding.
Whatever storm was brewing across town, Daniel and Armand would be here. A fixed point. A lighthouse.
And when the tide finally dragged Louis in,battered or brave,they’d be ready.
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Chapter 18: Familiar Ghosts
Chapter Text
The apartment had fallen into a strange silence.
Louis stood by the window, his back to Lestat, arms crossed so tightly across his chest it hurt. The city outside was slick with recent rain, lights reflecting in smudged mirrors across the glass. The thrum of traffic below was muted, distant. But inside, everything pressed in. The air between them was heavy with the residue of things unsaid.
Lestat hadn’t moved since closing the door.
“You’re still angry,” he said, finally, quietly. Not a question. Not an apology, either.
Louis didn’t turn around. “Should I not be?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Lestat’s voice was too soft, too careful. That was what unsettled Louis most. He would’ve preferred shouting. Preferred being called cruel, dramatic, impossible,something real, something honest. But this… this hollow civility, the way Lestat wouldn’t meet the fire with fire,it made Louis feel like he was talking to a mask.
He turned around.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was still in your life?”
Lestat exhaled. “He’s not.”
Louis’s jaw clenched. “He was at your door. You took him aside like I wasn’t even standing there. You spoke to him like there was still… unfinished business.”
“There isn’t.” Lestat’s voice cracked then. “He showed up out of nowhere.”
“But he knew where you lived.”
Lestat didn’t answer that.
Louis crossed the room, slowly, his shoes soundless on the wood. “I asked you for the truth. I’ve asked so many times, Lestat. But every time we get close, you recoil. Why? What is it that you’re so afraid I’ll see?”
“I’m not afraid,” Lestat snapped, his tone finally rising. “I just don’t want to dig through rot every time we take one step forward.”
Louis’s laugh was dry and bitter. “Rot? That’s what you call it?”
“You think I’m the only one hiding things?” Lestat asked, eyes flaring. “You still wear shame like it’s a shield. I saw your face after we kissed,like you were waiting to punish yourself for it.”
“That has nothing to do with Nicholas.”
“It has everything to do with how we are together.”
Louis’s breath caught in his throat. He hated how Lestat did this,derailing, distracting, always reframing things until Louis couldn’t tell what the fight was about anymore.
“I trusted you,” Louis said, voice low. “I trusted that this,us,wasn’t some rebound from a ghost you haven’t let go of.”
Lestat’s expression twisted. “Nicholas is not a ghost. He’s a wound.”
Louis stared at him. “Then why keep the wound open?”
Silence stretched between them.
Outside, thunder rumbled over the skyline.
Lestat ran a hand through his hair, then down his face. “He was my first. You want the truth? There it is. First person I ever loved. First person who told me I was something. He knew me when I didn’t have anything,when I wasn’t anything. And I ruined it. We ruined it. So yes, when I saw him again, it rattled me. I didn’t want it to, but it did.”
Louis’s heart ached in a way he didn’t expect. The admission didn’t soften his anger,but it touched a place beneath it. A wound of his own.
“You should’ve told me,” he said.
“I didn’t know how.”
“You’re not seventeen anymore, Lestat.”
“I know.”
The room seemed to pulse with that shout. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Louis turned away again, retreating to the window, as if distance might make this easier. It didn’t. All it did was make Lestat feel farther.
“I stayed,” he murmured. “I could’ve walked out after Gabrielle’s. After Nicholas. But I stayed. I wanted,want this. Us. But not if it means constantly wondering who you’re still holding onto behind my back.”
Lestat didn’t answer. The silence now was different. Not defensive. Not angry.
It was ashamed.
Lestat crossed the room slowly, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. Louis didn’t move, didn’t even look at him, but he didn’t back away either.
That was enough invitation.
“I’m not good at this,” Lestat said, stopping just a breath away. “You know that. I’ve never been good at the explaining part. I get defensive. I lie, or I twist things, or I act like it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing.”
Louis didn’t look at him. He stared past the rain-streaked window like he could disappear into it.
“I want to be better with you,” Lestat said, voice softer now, barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to lose this. You. Not over a ghost I already buried.”
“Then why does it feel like he’s still standing between us?” Louis said.
Lestat didn’t have an answer.
So instead, he reached out,slowly, carefully,and placed a hand on Louis’s shoulder.
Louis flinched at first, but didn’t pull away.
Lestat’s fingers curled, grounding them both.
“I wasn’t expecting him,” Lestat said again. “And when he showed up, part of me… I didn’t want to look weak in front of you. I didn’t want you to see me as someone who can still be shaken by the past.”
Louis finally looked at him.
“You think I need you to be perfect?” he asked.
“I think you need me to be honest.”
Louis nodded, slowly. “Yeah. I do.”
Lestat dropped his hand, suddenly unsure. “And if I say I still feel something when I see him,not love, not want, but… guilt, or grief, or just that damn ache of what I lost,would you walk out?”
Louis’s throat tightened. “No.”
“But it hurts you.”
“Yes.”
Silence again.
Lestat took a step back, jaw tight.
“I want this,” Louis said, before the silence could stretch too far. “I want you. But I need to know I’m not just trying to rewrite your history. I need to know that we’re building something new,not patching something old.”
Lestat looked down, like the floor might give him answers.
Then…“I haven’t invited him in. I won’t. Not again. I swear to you, Louis.”
Louis took a step closer now.
The air between them changed,thickened. It wasn’t forgiveness yet, but it was proximity. A willingness to stay. A question: Can we still come back from this?
Lestat’s breath hitched.
They were so close their foreheads could’ve touched if either leaned in even slightly.
But they didn’t.
Louis’s hand rose slowly, touched Lestat’s chest,flat palm, firm heartbeat. Lestat closed his eyes.
“This,” Louis said. “This is real. Whatever came before… it doesn’t have to take this away from us.”
Lestat opened his eyes, slowly. “I want to believe that.”
Louis gave a soft, dry laugh. “Then try.”
They stood there like that for a long moment,close but not touching beyond that one hand. It wasn’t a kiss. It wasn’t a promise. It was a truce made in silence, stitched with the tension of everything unsaid.
Then Louis stepped back.
“I’m going to bed,” he said. Not cold, not angry. Just… tired.
Lestat nodded. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“You don’t have to.”
Lestat looked at him.
“But I think I need space tonight,” Louis added.
A beat passed.
Lestat nodded again, quieter this time. “All right.”
Louis disappeared down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the soft runner across the floor.
Lestat stayed where he was, eyes on the window, watching the lights blur and shift across the glass like memories he couldn’t quite hold onto.
The morning light spilled in cautiously, filtering through the curtains as if it knew it wasn’t welcome.
Louis lay in bed, half-awake, the sheets tangled around his legs. He hadn’t slept much. His body had rested, but his mind had run laps through the night,looping through words he could’ve said, things he wished he hadn’t.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his hand over his face. The apartment was quiet. Not the kind of quiet that felt peaceful,more like the heavy hush of a space recovering from a storm.
He padded barefoot into the hallway, drawn by the faint scent of coffee.
Lestat was in the kitchen.
He looked… rough. His curls were disheveled. There was a deep line between his brows, like sleep hadn’t found him either. He was staring into a mug like it might explain what went wrong between them.
Louis didn’t say anything at first.
Lestat glanced up when he felt him there. His mouth opened like he might offer some casual morning line, then closed again. Nothing about this moment was casual.
“I made coffee,” he said instead, quietly.
Louis nodded. He walked over, took a cup, poured it for himself.
They stood side by side in silence.
“I didn’t sleep,” Lestat admitted.
“Me neither.”
More silence.
“I kept thinking I should’ve chased after you last night,” Lestat said. “Or said something better. Smarter. But then I thought maybe I’d make it worse.”
“You probably would have.”
Lestat smirked faintly. “Yeah. Probably.”
Louis sipped his coffee.
“I still don’t know how to fix this,” Lestat said, voice low. “But I don’t want it to stay like this.”
Louis turned, leaning against the counter.
“I’m not asking you to erase Nicholas,” he said. “But I can’t be in the same room as a ghost you won’t let go of.”
“He’s not…”
“You know what I mean,” Louis cut in.
Lestat pressed his lips together, exhaling slowly.
“I know what it looked like,” he said. “But you need to understand,when I saw him, it wasn’t temptation. It was… a reckoning. One I didn’t ask for.”
Louis looked down into his coffee. “And you think it’s over?”
“I told you last night. I didn’t invite him back into my life.”
“That’s not the same as asking him to stay away.”
Silence again.
Lestat’s knuckles tightened on the mug. “What do you want me to do, Louis? Say I’ll never speak to him again? That I’ll pretend he never existed?”
“I want you to choose,” Louis said, voice quiet but firm. “Choose what we’re building. Not what you’re clinging to.”
Lestat’s eyes met his.
“I choose you,” he said. “Even if I don’t always know how to show it.”
Louis held his gaze for a long moment.
Then nodded.
That wasn’t forgiveness,not yet,but it was a thread to hold onto. A tentative path forward.
They stood in the kitchen, the morning sun stretching slowly across the tile, neither of them moving to close the space between them.
They didn’t have to.
Not yet.
The air between them, though still heavy, was beginning to breathe.
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Chapter 19: Embers of Influence
Chapter Text
Later that same day
The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of traffic below and the occasional creak of the building settling into dusk. Lestat stood at the kitchen island, eyes locked on his phone screen. The blood drained from his face.
Nicholas’s name was trending.
There, under a polished headline from one of the city’s more salacious outlets, was a photo of them from years ago. A stolen, too-intimate moment from a forgotten charity gala. The caption beneath twisted it cruelly: “Former Lovers Reunite: Is Lestat de Lioncourt Rekindling a Flame With Nicholas?”
He didn’t remember giving them that photo.
He certainly hadn’t given them permission to print it.
Lestat swore under his breath and scrolled further , but it only got worse. They speculated. Implied. The article dredged up Nicholas’s spiral, the scandal of his disappearance from the scene, and his supposed “muse-like” influence on Lestat’s rise. No mention of Louis. No mention of now.
Just the past , bleeding into the present like rot.
A knock at the door made him stiffen. He glanced toward the bedroom. Louis was still inside, still silent. The knock came again.
Lestat crossed the room and opened it.
Gabrielle stepped inside with the cool ease of someone who never needed an invitation. Her white coat fluttered behind her, and her gaze swept over him instantly, calculating.
“I saw it,” she said, voice low. “The article.”
“You and the rest of the world,” Lestat muttered.
Gabrielle didn’t respond immediately. She took off her coat and draped it over the back of the nearest chair, surveying her son with sharp, critical eyes. “Did you know it was coming out?”
“No.” He tossed his phone onto the coffee table. “I didn’t authorize anything. Nicholas must’ve… I don’t know. Planted it. Or someone saw us outside and connected the dots.”
“You’ve always underestimated how fast the press moves when they smell old blood,” she said.
Lestat sat down heavily on the couch. “Louis saw it too,I’m sure if it.”
Gabrielle raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“He hasn’t spoken to me since this morning.”
Her lips tightened. She looked toward the hallway but didn’t move. “You think he’s jealous?”
“I think he’s confused. And angry. And…” He exhaled. “He thinks I’m still in love with Nicholas.”
Gabrielle stepped closer, folding her arms. “Are you?”
Lestat’s head jerked up. “No. Not anymore.”
“Not anymore,” she echoed, voice like frost. “But there was a time.”
He stared at her. “Why are you here?”
“Because I heard about Nicholas,” she said simply. “And I knew if you hadn’t seen the article yet, you were going to unravel the moment you did.”
“I’m not unraveling.”
“Not yet,” she said. “But you will, if you keep trying to rewrite the past instead of confronting it.”
He ran a hand through his hair, fingers trembling. “It’s not about the past. It’s about what Louis believes. I finally got through to him, finally had him trusting me , and now this.”
Gabrielle sat across from him, crossing one leg over the other. “Then tell him the truth. The real version. Not the press version, not the sanitized family-approved version. You want Louis to trust you? Give him something worth trusting.”
Lestat didn’t respond.
She leaned forward slightly. “You’ve always wanted to be loved, Lestat. But love isn’t performance. It’s risk.”
Another knock came , sharper this time.
Gabrielle stood as Lestat opened the door.
Claudia strode inside, dragging a sleek bag behind her. Her curls were windblown from travel, and her expression was already sharp enough to cut through silence.
“Well,” she said. “Looks like I picked the perfect time to come home.”
Lestat’s jaw clenched. “You saw it too.”
“Of course I did.” She dropped her bag and crossed her arms. “And so did Louis. He stopped responding to my texts around noon. I figured something happened.”
Gabrielle tilted her head. “You’re here to defend him?”
Claudia raised an eyebrow. “No. I’m here to make sure he doesn’t torch what’s left of himself over this.”
Her gaze landed on Lestat.
“You know what you did, right?”
“I didn’t plant the damn article.”
“No. But you left the door open,” she said. “And Nicholas walked through it.”
Before Lestat could argue, the hallway creaked.
Louis stood there, silent and barefoot, arms crossed against his chest. His expression was unreadable , no fury, no softness. Just tired calculation.
Gabrielle stepped back.
Claudia whispered, “Louis.”
He nodded to her. Then, to Gabrielle, “You’re here too.”
“She came to check on me,” Lestat said, voice lower now.
Louis’s gaze didn’t shift.
Claudia walked slowly toward him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“You don’t have to talk now,” she said. “But we’re here.”
Gabrielle studied the two of them , the quiet loyalty, the tense proximity. And for the first time, she seemed to understand the cost of what Lestat had nearly lost.
Lestat didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
The light from the windows was dim now. Shadows fell over them all.
And the silence between Louis and Lestat crackled with the weight of everything they still hadn’t said.
Claudia stepped into the apartment like she’d just walked off a plane and into a storm. Her coat was half-unbuttoned, her bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder, and her eyes already locked onto Louis with heat that wasn’t softened by exhaustion.
“This is where he lives?” she asked, voice cool, sharp.
Louis closed the door behind her and nodded. “Top floor. He bought it a few years ago.”
She looked around like she was casing the place. The tall windows, the polished wood floors, the quiet hum of a place that was too neat to be untouched.
“Huh,” she said. “Guess I expected more velvet. Less taste.”
Louis didn’t respond. He moved quietly past her and folded his coat over the back of a chair. Claudia didn’t sit. She just kept looking.
“I saw the post,” she said.
Louis turned.
“Of Nicholas,” she continued. “And Lestat. The photo outside the apartment.”
Of course she had. He should’ve expected it,half the city had seen it by now. Someone must’ve snapped the shot from across the street: Lestat and Nicholas standing too close, their faces tense, Lestat’s hand hovering just near Nicholas’s elbow. The caption underneath had been worse.
“Former flames reignited?”
“I didn’t know he was coming,” Louis said.
“I figured,” she said flatly. “But still. You were there.”
He nodded. “He was waiting outside. Right after we got back from Gabrielle’s.”
Claudia narrowed her eyes. “What did he say?”
“I don’t know. Lestat pulled him aside. They argued in low voices. I couldn’t hear them.”
She crossed her arms. “But you just let that happen?”
Louis bristled. “What was I supposed to do, Claudia? Chase them down the street?”
“Yes,” she said, with no hesitation. “Or at least interrupt. You had every right to know what was going on.”
Louis looked away. “It didn’t feel like I belonged in that moment.”
“That’s not how it works, Louis,” she said, stepping closer. “You’re with him. This is your life, too. You don’t get to be a footnote in someone else’s chapter.”
His jaw clenched. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is that simple,” she shot back. “You’re just afraid of what you’ll find if you ask the real questions.”
Louis sat on the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees. “You think I don’t know that?”
Claudia’s gaze softened slightly. “I think you’ve been trying really hard to believe in something that’s never been stable. And now that the past is catching up, you’re hoping it’ll just go away if you stay quiet long enough.”
He didn’t answer.
She finally slipped off her coat and tossed it onto a chair. “I came straight here after I saw the post.”
“You didn’t even tell me you were back.”
“I wasn’t going to come back today. But then I saw it, and I thought, Jesus, Louis. Not again.”
Louis gave a dry laugh. “You always think I’m about to fall apart.”
“Because I’ve seen you fall apart. And you always try to do it quietly, like you don’t want anyone to notice. But I notice.”
He rubbed at his brow. “I don’t even know what to say to him.”
“Start with: Why the hell didn’t you tell me Nicholas was in town?”
He nodded slowly. “He’s going to try to spin it.”
Claudia picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it gently at him. “Don’t let him. Pin him down. If there’s still something unresolved between them, better to know now than five months down the line.”
Louis caught the pillow and stared at it like it was heavier than it should’ve been.
“You think I should leave him?” he asked quietly.
“I think,” she said, crossing back to him, “you should stop pretending you’re not scared of that answer.”
The silence between them wasn’t cold. It was familiar.
“I’m here,” Claudia said. “Whatever happens.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
She gave him a look. “Just don’t thank me if you end up back in that hole.”
Then she picked up her coat and headed for the door.
Louis watched her go. The apartment seemed a little too quiet after she left. The silence throbbed behind his ribs like a wound starting to pulse again.
The apartment was quiet again, but Louis felt the noise inside his head swell to a deafening roar. Claudia’s words echoed, sharp and unyielding, cutting through the fragile calm he’d been clinging to.
“You’re just afraid of what you’ll find if you ask the real questions.”
He rubbed his hands over his face, the weight of that truth settling like cold stone in his chest.
Nicholas. The sight of him outside Lestat’s door had unsettled Louis more than he’d wanted to admit. There was something in the way Nicholas had looked at Lestat,something familiar and dangerous,that stirred an old fear Louis didn’t fully understand.
He remembered the brief argument just out of earshot. Lestat’s jaw clenched, his eyes hard, and Nicholas’s voice low but sharp. Louis hadn’t been part of it, but the tension had seeped into him anyway, a poison spreading through his thoughts.
Why now?
Why had Nicholas come back after all this time? What had they left unresolved that still haunted Lestat? And why had Lestat hidden it from him?
He thought about Claudia’s accusation, that he was pretending it wasn’t happening,that by ignoring it, he was hoping it would disappear. Maybe she was right. Maybe he’d spent too long trying to believe in a version of Lestat that didn’t exist anymore.
Louis stood and paced, the polished floor cool beneath his bare feet. The city lights spilled through the windows, casting long shadows that seemed to twist and shift like the doubts inside him.
He wanted to ask Lestat everything, but the words stuck in his throat. What if the answers made everything worse? What if Nicholas wasn’t just a ghost from the past, but a storm that could tear them apart?
The silence of the apartment pressed in again, and Louis sank back onto the sofa. He closed his eyes, trying to find some peace.
But there was none to be found.
Only the weight of secrets and the ache of not knowing.
Lestat entered the penthouse with a weight pressing on his chest, knowing Gabrielle was waiting. She didn’t need to say a word,her eyes held the silent accusation, the unspoken question.
He swallowed and met her gaze. “You made it clear you saw the post.”
Gabrielle nodded, her expression unreadable. “I did. And it’s not just about the article, Lestat. It’s about the secrets you’ve kept from me, from all of us.”
Lestat ran a hand through his hair, frustration and regret mingling in his voice. “I never wanted you to find out like this. The past with Nicholas… it’s complicated.”
Gabrielle’s eyes sharpened. “Complicated doesn’t excuse silence. You could’ve come to me.”
“I was trying to protect you, to protect the family name,” Lestat said quietly. “But it’s clear that’s not enough anymore.”
She crossed her arms, the distance between them heavier than ever. “Protection means trust, and right now, I don’t know if I can trust you.”
He stepped closer, voice softer. “Then let me earn it back. No more hiding.”
Gabrielle studied him for a long moment before finally nodding, a fragile truce forming in the silence.
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Chapter 20: Shadows Between Us
Chapter Text
The air was sharp with silence.
Louis sat at the edge of the velvet couch, his elbows on his knees, head bowed as if in prayer. But his thoughts were anything but holy. They were jagged and raw, churning with the weight of things unsaid,things he didn’t know how to say. Lestat was across the room, pacing like a caged animal, his expression flickering between defiance and something closer to regret.
They hadn’t spoken since Gabrielle’s penthouse, not properly. The ride back had been a slow implosion, words biting like frost, each one drawing blood. And now they were here, in the apartment that once felt like a shelter. It felt more like a battleground now.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Lestat muttered finally, breaking the silence.
Louis didn’t look up. “The truth would be a start.”
Lestat laughed, short and bitter. “You got the truth. You saw the truth standing right on the sidewalk.”
“I saw a man who looked at you like you still belonged to him.”
“And what, that makes me guilty?” Lestat snapped. “I didn’t invite Nicholas there.”
“But you didn’t exactly shove him away either.”
Lestat’s mouth twisted, his eyes dark. “Do you want me to lie to you, Louis? Say I’ve never meant anything to him? That he’s never meant anything to me?”
Louis looked up then, finally meeting his eyes. “I want to know that I’m not just a replacement.”
The words struck like a blow, and for a moment, Lestat was still.
He walked toward Louis slowly, but Louis stood before he could get close, putting space between them again. The air thickened, that tension rising like a tide. Lestat’s voice dropped, quieter now, the fire retreating. “You’re not. God, Louis. You’re not.”
Louis’s jaw clenched, uncertain. “Then act like it.”
Lestat stepped closer. “I’m trying.”
“No, you’re performing. And I can’t tell what’s real anymore.” Louis’s voice cracked, despite how steady he tried to keep it. “Not with you. Not when Nicholas is still in the wings, looking at you like he’s waiting to be let back in.”
There was pain in Lestat’s face now, but it didn’t make Louis feel better. It made him feel worse.
“You want to punish me,” Lestat said. “Because I had a life before you. Because I loved people before you.”
“I don’t want to punish you,” Louis whispered. “I just want to believe I’m not alone in this.”
They were closer now, close enough for Louis to feel the heat radiating off Lestat’s body. The silence stretched between them, loaded with too many things.
“I love you,” Lestat said quietly.
Louis’s breath caught.
It wasn’t the first time. But it was the first time it felt this bare, this desperate.
“You don’t get to say that like it fixes everything,” Louis replied, his voice hoarse.
“I’m not trying to fix everything,” Lestat said, stepping even closer. “I’m just trying not to lose you.”
Their eyes locked,one second, two. And then Louis broke first. He stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, it looked like he might shove Lestat away.
But he didn’t.
His hands found the lapels of Lestat’s coat instead.
Their mouths collided, hard and bruising, less a kiss than a surrender.
Lestat’s breath hitched as Louis’s hands pulled him closer. The kiss wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t gentle. It was everything else,anger, fear, loneliness, longing. Lips crushed. Teeth scraped. There was no choreography, no elegance, only desperation. A need to feel something that wasn’t pain.
Lestat’s hands cupped Louis’s jaw, not guiding, just grounding, as if trying to memorize the shape of him. Louis pushed forward, driving them backward until Lestat’s back hit the wall with a muted thud. Neither of them flinched.
Louis broke the kiss first, panting, forehead pressed to Lestat’s. “I hate that you can still do this to me.”
Lestat’s hands stayed on his face, warm and steady. “Then hate me. But stay.”
Louis closed his eyes. “You don’t get it.”
“Then tell me. Make me understand.”
Louis stepped back, breaking all contact. The space between them felt like oxygen returning to a room filled with smoke.
He dragged a hand down his face, pacing away. “You kept him from me. All this time. Like a secret you were ashamed to share.”
“I wasn’t ashamed,” Lestat said quietly. “I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now.”
Louis turned, jaw tight. “Then you should’ve told me. You should’ve trusted me.”
“I didn’t know how,” Lestat admitted, helpless. “Nicholas is…was a part of my past that I buried so deep, I forgot what it felt like until he showed up again. I didn’t want him to matter. I didn’t want to drag you into that.”
“But you did,” Louis said. “And now it’s between us like a ghost you still grieve.”
Lestat’s eyes fell shut, as if Louis had just spoken something he couldn’t bear to admit. “He was my first. My worst. And I thought I could outrun the damage. I thought you and I could be…clean.”
Louis laughed, bitter. “There’s nothing clean about us, Lestat. There never was.”
Silence stretched again. But it wasn’t the hostile kind anymore. It was the fragile kind. The kind that could break in either direction.
Lestat stepped closer. Slower this time. No fire, no pressure.
“I don’t want clean,” he said. “I want us. The real thing. Even if it’s messy. Even if it hurts.”
Louis didn’t move. But he didn’t walk away either.
“You want the real thing?” he asked, voice low. “Then you have to stop shutting me out.”
Lestat nodded.
“No more half-truths. No more omissions. If we’re doing this,really doing this,I need all of you. Not just the curated version you think I can handle.”
“I’ll try,” Lestat said, the words almost reverent.
Louis looked at him for a long moment. Then, finally, stepped forward again.
This time the kiss was different. Still hungry, still intense,but slower. Deliberate. Louis’s hands slid into Lestat’s hair, and Lestat let his own hands settle around Louis’s waist, fingers trembling.
It was an apology.
It was forgiveness.
It was something dangerously close to love.
When they pulled apart, Louis didn’t speak. He just rested his head on Lestat’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him, letting the storm inside him settle,just a little.
For now.
Lestat didn’t move at first. He stayed still, arms wrapped loosely around Louis, as if afraid the spell might break if he shifted. Louis remained tucked against him, the rhythm of his breath gradually slowing, evening out. A fragile calm hovered between them,uncertain, but real.
When Louis finally stepped back, he didn’t let go entirely. His fingers stayed lightly hooked into the hem of Lestat’s shirt. He looked at Lestat’s face for a long time, searching for something. Maybe truth. Maybe proof.
“I don’t know what happens next,” Louis murmured. “But I’m not walking out that door.”
Lestat’s lips twitched into something like a smile. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all week.”
Louis rolled his eyes, but his mouth softened. “Shut up.”
“I would, but you keep saying such beautiful things to me.”
Lestat leaned forward, lips brushing Louis’s again, softer now, slower. This kiss wasn’t about proving anything. It was an anchor. A request. A question asked silently: Do we still have this?
Louis kissed him back, hands finding Lestat’s waist, holding him steady as he deepened it, but without urgency this time. He pulled back after a beat, resting his forehead against Lestat’s again.
“You’re still impossible,” he said quietly.
“I’m aware,” Lestat whispered, fingertips ghosting up Louis’s spine.
They moved together slowly, unhurried now. Lestat took Louis’s hand, guiding him toward the bedroom without letting go of his gaze. There was no rush. No frenzy. Just the kind of stillness that comes when the storm has passed but the air still hums with thunder.
Inside, the room was dim, quiet,familiar. Louis stepped in first, but stopped halfway, looking back over his shoulder as if unsure.
Lestat didn’t push. He stepped closer and touched Louis’s shoulder lightly. “You can still say no. To anything.”
Louis turned to him fully, eyes searching.
“I’m not saying no.”
They moved together again, mouths meeting in the quiet dark. Lestat’s hands traced along the lines of Louis’s arms, memorizing. Louis’s fingers undid the buttons of Lestat’s shirt one by one, slow and deliberate. When their clothes fell away, it wasn’t rushed,it was reverent.
They touched like it meant something. Like it had to.
Lestat eased Louis down onto the bed, their bodies slotting together with the familiarity of memory and the ache of too many nights apart. Every kiss now was slower. Every caress more careful. Lestat didn’t take?he offered. And Louis, for once, let himself receive without fear of what it would cost.
Their mouths moved in rhythm, breath hitching between touches. Louis’s voice was the only sound in the room when he whispered, “Don’t let me go.”
“Never,” Lestat breathed against his skin, kissing a line along his collarbone.
When they came together, it wasn’t perfect,it was messy and gasping and tender in ways neither of them knew how to describe. But it felt like coming home.
And when it was over, Louis didn’t move. He didn’t pull away.
He stayed.
Lestat wrapped an arm around him, drawing him close until they were chest to chest, breath syncing in the dark.
Neither of them said the words.
But they didn’t need to.
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Chapter 21: Stopping for now?
Summary:
I might restart but for now I will be concentrating on Shutter&Sound
Chapter Text
Hi everyone,
After a lot of thought, I’ve decided to step away from this story for now. It’s been an incredible journey writing it and building this world, but I feel it’s the right moment to pause and take some distance from it. I’m grateful for everyone who followed along, offered support, and connected with these characters.
This isn’t necessarily goodbye forever,but for the time being, I’m closing this chapter.
Thank you for reading and being part of it.
– Mycov3n_isclaud1a
Chapter 22: After The Phantoms Of Your Former Self
Summary:
School finally ended and I love this story too much to just let it go ….soooo new chapter!!
Chapter Text
The rain had started sometime after midnight, a quiet patter against the windows that had grown steadier with every passing hour. The city outside Armand’s apartment was dim and blurred, the lights softened behind the downpour. Daniel sat curled up on the couch with a half-empty glass of scotch in one hand, watching droplets chase each other down the glass like thoughts slipping through his mind before he could pin them down.
Armand was at the window, phone in hand, answering work emails or deleting them without reading. His profile was lit faintly by the desk lamp. Quiet. Remote. Beautiful, as always, in that haunted, unplaceable way of his.
Daniel hadn’t said much since they got home. He’d been thinking,no, turning something over in his head,ever since Louis had left their apartment earlier in the week.
Nicholas.
That name had hung in the air like smoke, lingering long after the conversation had ended.
Daniel’s thumb hovered over his phone screen. Louis’s last message was still there.
“I just need to understand what happened between them. It’s like he won’t talk to me. Like I’m not allowed to ask.”
He hadn’t replied. Not yet. Not until he had something to say.
“Hey,” Daniel said softly. “Can I ask you something?”
Armand turned from the window, brows lifting. “Of course.”
Daniel gestured vaguely toward his chest, or maybe toward something else entirely,somewhere between curiosity and caution.
“It’s about Lestat. And Nicholas.”
Armand didn’t blink. For a moment, Daniel thought he might pretend not to know what he meant. But then Armand crossed the room, silent on bare feet, and sat beside him on the couch.
“Louis asked you,” Armand said.
Daniel nodded. “He doesn’t trust what Lestat says. Or doesn’t say. And honestly, after seeing how Lestat reacted… I don’t blame him.”
Armand leaned back, folding one leg over the other. He stared ahead for a long moment, then let out a slow, steady breath.
“There are stories people tell,” he said finally, “and there are stories people live. And with Lestat and Nicholas,what people remember is the first kind.”
Daniel waited. The silence wasn’t heavy,it was measured. Armand was choosing his words the way he always did when something mattered.
“They met when they were young,” Armand said. “In Paris. Lestat was fire. Nicholas was smoke. They swallowed each other whole.”
Daniel frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means they loved destructively. Intensely. And privately. Nicholas was Lestat’s mirror, once. The one person who understood the part of him that always felt like too much. The hunger. The ambition. The resentment. But mirrors don’t always survive what they reflect.”
Daniel sat forward a little. His drink, forgotten, warmed between his palms.
“Did something happen?” he asked. “Something specific?”
Armand’s lips twitched in a humorless smile. “Everything happened. Nicholas adored Lestat, but he also envied him. Lestat loved Nicholas, but he feared what he saw in him. They were… tangled. That’s the only word for it.”
He looked down at his hands.
“And then Lestat left.”
Daniel’s brow furrowed. “He just… left?”
“Lestat wanted more. Nicholas wanted him to stay small. Stay close. Stay his. When Lestat chose to leave,chose to become someone bigger than what they had,Nicholas shattered. And Lestat… never looked back.”
Daniel let that sink in.
The echo of that decision rang out even now, years later. In Louis’s eyes. In Lestat’s defensiveness. In Nicholas’s reappearance on the steps of that apartment building.
“Does Gabrielle know?” Daniel asked.
Armand nodded. “She’s always known. But she chose not to interfere.”
Daniel exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.
“All this time,” he muttered. “Louis just wanted the truth. And Lestat keeps shutting him out like he’s the enemy.”
“He’s afraid,” Armand said softly. “Afraid of what Louis will see. Of what Louis might decide once he knows the whole truth.”
Daniel stared into his glass, then downed the last of it.
He stood slowly, setting the tumbler on the table, and reached for his phone. He opened his texts, thumb hovering for a second before he typed:
“I’ve got some answers. Come by tomorrow if you want to talk.”
He hit send. Then he looked at Armand.
“Thank you,” he said.
Armand tilted his head. “You’re welcome.”
Daniel lingered. The quiet between them stretched. And as the rain kept falling outside, the weight of old stories settled in the corners of the apartment, unspoken but not unnoticed.
Daniel didn’t go back to the couch right away. He stood at the window instead, watching the water trail down the glass in tired, winding rivulets, his thoughts slowed and heavy after everything Armand had told him.
Behind him, he felt the shift of weight on the floor, the almost soundless step Armand always made when he didn’t want to disturb the air too much.
“I didn’t mean to bring the mood down,” Daniel said quietly, not turning around. “I just… needed to know.”
“You didn’t,” Armand replied, voice soft, steady. “I want you to ask things. Even if they’re hard.”
Daniel smiled faintly. “That’s new.”
Armand’s hands slid around his waist, cool at first, then warming fast as he pressed his cheek gently against Daniel’s back.
“Maybe I’m learning,” Armand murmured.
Daniel chuckled under his breath, then covered Armand’s hands with his own. “It’s just… a lot. All of it. I hate watching Louis go through this, and I hate watching Lestat screw it up, even if I know why he’s doing it.”
Armand didn’t answer. Just held him there, letting Daniel lean back slightly into his chest, letting the rain talk for both of them.
After a moment, Daniel turned around in his arms. Armand looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, quiet in the way he always was when he wasn’t trying to be anything at all.
“You’re kind of a mystery too, you know,” Daniel said, brushing his fingers lightly through the curls at Armand’s temple.
“I hope not as frustrating as Lestat,” Armand murmured.
Daniel laughed. “No, you’re worse.”
That earned him a faint smirk. Then Armand leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to the corner of Daniel’s mouth, then another to his cheek, then one just below his ear where Daniel always melted a little without meaning to.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Armand whispered.
Daniel pulled him closer. They didn’t move for a while. Just stayed there in each other’s warmth, the hum of the city muted behind the glass, the night growing quieter by degrees.
And somewhere in that stillness, Daniel thought:
If only they could all learn to hold each other like this.
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Chapter 23: What We Carry In Silence
Chapter Text
(Louis’s Point of View)
The door buzzed once. Louis didn’t wait for a second chance. He pushed it open with one hand, his other buried deep in the pocket of his coat, gripping nothing in particular , just holding the tension there.
The elevator ride up was too quiet. His thoughts had been on a loop since Daniel’s message last night.
“I’ve got some answers for you. Come by tomorrow if you’re free. Armand will be here too.”
Answers. Not reassurances. Not speculation. Answers.
And now Louis was here, standing in the warm hallway outside Daniel’s apartment, heart beating with the careful heaviness of someone who didn’t know if what waited behind the door would steady or unravel him further.
The door opened before he could knock.
Daniel, in socks and an old T-shirt, gave him a crooked, warm smile. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Louis stepped inside. “You alone?”
“Armand’s in the kitchen. He’ll join us in a minute.”
Louis nodded, shoulders still tight beneath his coat. He didn’t sit. Just looked around, like he needed to recalibrate his nervous system before settling in this familiar space.
Daniel watched him for a moment, then offered gently, “You can breathe, you know.”
“I’m trying.”
“You want water or…?”
“No.” A pause. “I just want to know.”
Daniel gestured toward the couch. “Then come sit. It’s not a short story.”
Louis moved stiffly but didn’t argue. The cushions gave under him. He stared down at his own hands for a long second. Then he looked up.
“When you said ‘answers,’ what exactly did you mean?”
Daniel glanced toward the kitchen. “I mean Armand’s gonna walk in here and give you the uncut version of Lestat and Nicholas. The parts Lestat won’t tell you.”
Louis swallowed. His throat felt dry all over again.
“You’re sure I want to hear it?”
“No,” Daniel said honestly. “But I think you need to.”
Footsteps approached. Armand appeared in the doorway, dressed as ever in quiet elegance, sleeves rolled, hair half tied back, gaze unreadable.
He looked at Louis like he had been expecting him for hours.
“Ready?” Armand asked.
Louis inhaled once. Deep. Steady.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Armand crossed the room, sat across from him, and leaned forward with clasped hands.
Then …the story began.
Armand’s voice, when it came, was quiet. Measured. Like he was drawing each word from a memory kept in perfect, bitter preservation.
“I met Lestat in Paris. Years ago. Before he was this…” Armand gestured vaguely toward the world outside the apartment, “public creature he’s become.”
Louis leaned in slightly. Daniel stayed still, perched on the armrest near him, eyes sharp.
“He was different then,” Armand said. “Brilliant. Chaotic. Self-destructive. And he had one constant in his life. One anchor.”
“Nicholas,” Louis said quietly.
Armand nodded.
“They were inseparable. Not just close ….fused. Lestat clung to him. I don’t think he knew who he was without Nicholas around to reflect it back. And Nicholas… Nicholas was the quieter one. The watcher. But don’t let that fool you. He had teeth. And the kind of need that wraps around someone and doesn’t let go.”
Louis’s throat tightened.
“He was possessive?” he asked.
“Yes,” Armand said simply. “But so was Lestat. Neither of them knew how to love without trying to own the other. It was toxic. And addictive.”
He leaned back, gaze distant.
“They built something together, briefly. A vision. A business, some notoriety. But it didn’t last. Because Nicholas couldn’t handle Lestat wanting more. More attention, more light, more love. Lestat wanted the world. Nicholas wanted Lestat to stay small, stay his. And when Lestat started pulling away, Nicholas spiraled.”
Daniel’s fingers lightly grazed Louis’s arm, grounding him.
“He tried to hurt him?” Louis asked.
Armand exhaled. “He did. In every way that didn’t leave bruises people could see. He made Lestat feel guilty for wanting anything outside of him. And Lestat…” He broke off for a moment. “He was so young. He didn’t know how to leave clean. So he left messy.”
“Messy how?” Louis asked.
“He slept with someone else,” Armand said. “Made sure Nicholas found out. Partly to end things. Partly out of rage. And then he disappeared.”
Louis blinked slowly. A sharp edge entered his voice.
“Who did he sleep with?”
There was a pause. A very long pause.
Armand’s eyes met his.
“Me.”
The word landed like a stone.
Louis didn’t speak. He didn’t move. The silence felt dense, loaded with unsaid things. His heart gave a strange, cold thump.
Armand didn’t flinch.
“It wasn’t romantic,” he said, almost gently. “It wasn’t even particularly kind. He was angry. He needed to hurt Nicholas. I was there. That’s all.”
Louis looked away, jaw tight. “Did Nicholas know it was you?”
“Yes,” Armand said. “Which is why he hates me. And why, for years, Lestat and I barely spoke.”
Daniel sat frozen beside him.
Louis dragged in a breath. “And you? Do you hate him?”
Armand smiled, small and bitter. “No. But I don’t envy anyone who tries to love him.”
Louis sat back, eyes fixed on the floor. The porch scene played again in his mind. Nicholas’s smirk. The deliberate timing. Lestat’s face when he saw him.
“You think Nicholas came back to ruin him?” he asked.
“I think Nicholas never forgave him,” Armand said. “And I think Lestat still feels like he deserved it.”
Silence…
Daniel looked over and asked gently, “Is that what you needed to know?”
Louis nodded, almost absently. “Yeah. Thank you.”
Armand stood without another word and disappeared down the hall, leaving them alone.
Daniel shifted beside him. “You okay?”
“No,” Louis said. “But I’m… starting to understand.”
Daniel reached for his phone and hesitated, then tapped out a message. He held it out for Louis to read.
Told him everything. He’s got the full story now. You might want to give him space… or not. Up to you.
“Should I send it?” Daniel asked.
Louis nodded.
Daniel hit send.
(Daniel’s Point of View)
The door clicked shut behind Louis, the sound echoing longer than it should’ve in the stillness of the apartment.
Daniel stayed seated on the couch, staring at the spot where Louis had been a moment ago. His hands, folded in his lap, felt restless. There had been so much tension in the room, and now it had drained out like breath from lungs held too long.
Across from him, Armand stood by the window, the late afternoon light tracing his profile in gold and shadow. His arms were crossed, but not in his usual posture of defense. This was something else. Something softer. More resigned.
Daniel waited a few moments before breaking the silence.
“You okay?”
Armand didn’t look away from the view. “Yes.”
A beat passed.
“That was a lot,” Daniel said. “For Louis. For you.”
“I know,” Armand replied.
Another pause.
Daniel got up and crossed the room to him, slowly. He didn’t reach out immediately. Just stood close enough that Armand could feel his presence, close enough to be an anchor if the weight of the past threatened to pull either of them down.
“He didn’t know,” Daniel said quietly.
“I didn’t expect him to.”
“You handled it well.”
Armand finally turned to him, face unreadable but calm. “You think so?”
“I think you told the truth. That counts for something.”
A soft sound left Armand’s throat ,not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. He reached up and cupped Daniel’s face with one cool hand, his thumb brushing lightly across Daniel’s cheek.
“You always do this,” Armand murmured.
“Do what?”
“Remind me that the truth doesn’t have to be a weapon.”
Daniel leaned into the touch, closing his eyes briefly. “It can also be a bridge.”
Armand’s hand moved to the back of Daniel’s neck, drawing him in slowly until their foreheads touched. The contact was simple, intimate. Their breaths mingled in the small space between them, hearts not racing, just steady. Present.
For a long time, they just stood like that , no heat, no urgency. Just connection.
Daniel opened his eyes first, only to find Armand already looking at him. And in that gaze, there was something Daniel hadn’t seen clearly in a while , not just affection, but trust.
“Do you regret it?” Daniel asked suddenly, voice low. “Telling him?”
Armand shook his head. “No. He deserved the truth. Even if it hurt.”
Daniel nodded. “You’re better at this than you think.”
Armand smiled, faint but real. “Only because I have you.”
Daniel laughed softly, then leaned forward to press a kiss to Armand’s temple. It was tender, reverent , the kind of kiss meant to soothe, not stir.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s lie down for a while.”
Armand didn’t answer with words. He just followed as Daniel led him gently to the bedroom, where the light through the window was fading to amber and the silence between them was peaceful, not heavy.
They lay together, fully clothed, bodies curved toward one another. Armand rested his head on Daniel’s chest, listening to the quiet, steady beat of his heart. Daniel’s fingers moved slowly through Armand’s hair, a rhythm as calming as breath.
There was no need to talk. Not now.
The past had been loud enough. And this,this quiet, this closeness,was the kind of answer they both needed.
Notes:
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Chapter 24: Im Still Here…
Summary:
I am so sorry for the big wait guys.Someone in my family got into a accident and got badly injured.But this person is now well and I don’t have to stress no more.So I’m back with another chapter!!!and much more to come…😏
Chapter Text
The elevator ride to Lestat’s apartment felt longer than it should have.
Louis watched the numbers tick upward, arms crossed, Daniel’s final text still open on his phone in his coat pocket:
He didn’t lie to you, Louis. He just couldn’t say it. I get it now. If you still love him… be kind.
— D.
It echoed in his chest, louder than the hum of the elevator.
When the doors opened, Louis hesitated only a moment before stepping out. He raised his hand and knocked once.
No answer.
He tried again.
This time, the lock turned, slow and reluctant. The door opened an inch, then two. Lestat stood there in sweatpants and a black hoodie, his eyes rimmed with red, as if he hadn’t slept in days.
His voice was hoarse. “Louis.”
Louis searched his face , not for lies, not for excuses. Just for him.
“Can I come in?” he asked gently.
Lestat stepped aside.
The apartment was dim, quiet, lived-in in a way it rarely was. A blanket thrown over the couch. A half-finished glass of wine on the counter. Louis didn’t speak right away. He took off his coat, placed it on the chair, and faced him fully.
Lestat looked at him like he wasn’t sure if this was real.
Louis took a slow breath. “Daniel told me.”
Something in Lestat’s expression cracked, but he didn’t speak.
Louis stepped closer. “About what happened. With Armand. With Nicholas. All of it.”
Still, Lestat said nothing. His jaw clenched. He looked like he was preparing for a punch.
Louis’s voice remained soft. “You didn’t lie. But you didn’t trust me enough to say it.”
“I didn’t want to lose you,” Lestat said, barely above a whisper.
“You almost did.”
“I know.”
Louis’s hand moved , slow, hesitant , and then came to rest on Lestat’s chest, over his heart.
“I asked you for the truth. Not because I wanted to punish you. Because I wanted to carry it with you.”
Lestat’s hands hovered at his sides. He was shaking.
Louis looked up at him. “Why him?”
Lestat closed his eyes. “Because he wasn’t you.”
Silence. A thick, aching silence.
Then Lestat added, voice breaking, “Because I hated how much I missed you. Because I wanted to feel… wanted. And I knew it would mean nothing. I wanted something that wouldn’t leave a scar.”
Louis exhaled. “But it did.”
Lestat opened his eyes. “Yes.”
Louis let his palm flatten against Lestat’s chest. “I’m tired of punishing you. And myself.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I know.” Louis stepped closer. “But I want to be here. If you’ll let me.”
Lestat looked like he might fall to his knees.
Instead, he grabbed Louis’s face in both hands, trembling fingers brushing his jaw. “You forgive me?”
“I do.”
Lestat’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Even after everything?”
“Especially after everything.”
Their lips met, slow and breathless, a kiss filled with every unsaid apology and every broken piece pieced back together. It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t desperate. It was reverent.
Lestat pulled him close, arms wrapping around Louis’s waist, forehead pressed to his. “I thought I’d lost you.”
Louis closed his eyes. “You didn’t.”
They stood there for a long time in the middle of the apartment , just holding each other, neither moving, letting the silence stretch and soften. The worst of it was over. Not forgotten. But faced.
Lestat spoke first, barely audible. “Stay with me tonight?”
Louis nodded, brushing a kiss to Lestat’s cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And this time, he meant it.
It was still a little bit dark when Louis woke.
The curtains were drawn, casting the room in a soft gray hush. Lestat was beside him, one arm slung across Louis’s waist, his breathing steady, slow. For once, he looked at peace. No tension in his jaw. No restlessness in his sleep. Just him , quiet, real, vulnerable.
Louis turned his head and watched him. Every inch of him.
He traced the faint shadows under Lestat’s eyes, the way his lashes rested against his cheek. His lips were parted slightly, his hair a mess on the pillow. And in that stillness, something inside Louis settled too , something that had been twisting and clawing and questioning for weeks.
He reached out, brushed a stray curl from Lestat’s forehead.
Lestat stirred at the touch but didn’t wake. He only pressed in closer, nuzzling against Louis’s neck like instinct.
Louis let his fingers skim down Lestat’s shoulder, over the curve of his back. There was nothing rushed or heated between them now. No tension ready to snap. Just warmth. Just presence. Just the quiet reality that they were still here, in the same bed, after everything.
And Louis didn’t want to move.
But his phone buzzed softly on the nightstand.
He hesitated, then reached for it, careful not to wake him. The screen lit up.
Daniel:
Let me know how it went. You good?
Louis stared at the message for a long moment, thumb hovering over the keyboard. He could still hear Daniel’s voice from the day before. Be kind. He didn’t lie to you. He just couldn’t say it.
He typed slowly.
Louis:
We’re okay. Thank you.
Then after a beat:
I stayed the night.
He set the phone down.
“Was that Daniel?” came a soft, sleep-rough voice against his collarbone.
Louis looked down. Lestat’s eyes were barely open, but they were there , tired and golden and a little uncertain.
“Yeah,” Louis said. “He wanted to know if I was okay.”
Lestat shifted, propping himself up on one elbow. His hand remained at Louis’s hip, like he was afraid letting go would make him disappear.
“And are you?”
Louis reached up and brushed his thumb along Lestat’s jaw. “Yeah. I am.”
Lestat blinked. Then: “Are we?”
Louis’s lips curled faintly. “We’re better than we were yesterday.”
Lestat dropped his forehead against Louis’s shoulder with a long breath. “That’s… more than I deserve.”
Louis pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m not keeping score.”
They lay like that for a while , a tangle of legs and bare limbs, their breaths syncing, the silence comfortable now instead of strained.
Eventually Lestat murmured, “Do you want coffee? I can make breakfast.”
Louis smirked into his hair. “You can’t cook.”
“I could try. For you.”
Louis chuckled softly, and it was the first time in days that it didn’t feel bitter. “Let’s just stay here a little longer.”
Lestat nodded against him. “As long as you want.”
Louis didn’t say it out loud, but he felt it deep in his chest:
Forever might be nice.
By midmorning, the sun had climbed higher, pouring golden light through the kitchen windows of Lestat’s apartment. It hit the marble countertops and spilled across the floor in long stripes. Louis sat at the kitchen table, nursing a mug of black coffee while Lestat stood at the stove, unconvincingly trying to flip something in a pan.
“You’re gonna burn it,” Louis said mildly, watching the attempted pancake come apart in a flurry of scrambled batter.
“I am not,” Lestat replied, indignant. “It’s deconstructed.”
Louis raised an eyebrow.
“Artistic,” Lestat added, then glanced back at him, grinning. “You’re the one who said we should stay in today. This is what happens when I try to ‘domesticate.’”
Louis let out a soft laugh, stirring his coffee. The apartment felt warmer than it ever had , not just from the sun, but from the silence between them that had finally stopped feeling dangerous.
When Lestat sat beside him with a plate of tragically deformed pancakes, Louis picked one up with a fork anyway. “Are these safe to eat?”
“Probably not,” Lestat said, leaning on his elbow. “But I didn’t poison them, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Louis gave him a dry look, then took a bite. “Hmm.”
Lestat tilted his head, waiting.
“…It’s not the worst thing I’ve eaten.”
Lestat beamed like a child. “You love me.”
“I never said that.”
“You just implied it with your tone.”
Louis tried not to smile. He failed.
They stayed like that for a long while , eating slowly, lazily, sharing looks and words that didn’t need to be said aloud. When they finished, Lestat took the plates without being asked and washed them, humming under his breath. Louis stood at the window and looked out over the city, wondering how a view he’d seen so many times before could suddenly feel new.
It wasn’t the skyline that had changed.
It was the way Lestat moved behind him. The way Louis felt inside his own skin.
And it was when Lestat came up behind him, slipping his arms around Louis’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder, that he understood just how much he’d missed this. The quiet. The closeness. The feeling that they were on the same side again.
“You okay?” Lestat murmured.
Louis nodded. “Yeah.”
“You’ve been quiet.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
Louis rolled his eyes, but he leaned back into the embrace. “I’ve been wondering if we can do this. Really do this. Without breaking each other.”
Lestat was quiet a moment. Then he whispered, “We already broke each other. But we’re still here.”
Louis turned around slowly, cupping Lestat’s face. “You still want this?”
Lestat looked like he might cry , just a little. “I want you. I’ll take all the mess that comes with that.”
They kissed, slow and sure. Nothing rushed. Nothing claimed. Just the kind of kiss that felt like a promise whispered across time.
Later, they left the apartment.
The world outside hadn’t changed. The streets still buzzed with impatient cars and chatter, the cafés still clinked with glasses, the air still smelled faintly of hot pavement and espresso.
But they walked side by side.
No tension. No space between them.
Lestat reached for Louis’s hand as they crossed the street. Louis hesitated for half a breath, then threaded their fingers together.
They didn’t talk about it.
They just walked. Together.
They were just turning onto Royal Street, the breeze carrying the scent of jasmine and roasted coffee, when the sharp tap of heels on pavement made Louis stop.
“Well, well,” came a voice cool and sharp as glass. “Isn’t this cozy.”
Claudia stood beneath the striped awning of a bookstore, arms folded, her expression unreadable. Her curls were pinned back in a crown of gold clips, but her eyes were all storm.
Lestat’s hand was in his. Tight. Reflexively, Louis let go.
Claudia didn’t miss it.
“Oh, don’t let me interrupt,” she said, stepping closer. “It’s sweet, really. Nostalgic. You two walking hand in hand through the Quarter like nothing ever happened.”
“Claudia…” Louis began.
“I know,” she cut in. “You didn’t mean for me to find out about Nicholas that way. That it was ‘a long time ago.’ That you were going to tell me eventually.”
Lestat stayed quiet. Smart, for once.
“I should’ve told you,” Louis said. “Not because I owed you every detail, but because I know how much it matters when people keep you in the dark.”
Her eyes softened. Just barely. “And yet, you did.”
“I was… ashamed,” he admitted. “Not of what Lestat did. Of how much I let it get to me. Of how much I still let it get to me.”
She looked between them, eyes narrowing a little.
“You’re not mad at him anymore?”
Louis didn’t answer right away. His hand found Lestat’s again, deliberately this time. “I’m trying not to be.”
Claudia exhaled. A long, slow breath. “It’s not just about the past, Louis. It’s about trust. I’m not a child anymore. I can handle things , I’ve had to. But if you start shutting me out now…”
“I’m not,” he said. “I promise I’m not.”
Silence stretched between them. And then , very softly, almost as if surprising herself , Claudia said, “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I kept thinking… if he could hide that from you, what else has he hidden? What’s still coming?”
“I don’t know,” Louis said honestly. “But I know I don’t want to face any of it without you.”
Her mouth twitched. Not quite a smile , but close.
“I missed you,” she said. “Even when I was pissed. I hated that I couldn’t just call and scream at you.”
“You still can,” Louis said gently. “Whenever you want.”
She looked down at her boots, scuffed one against the other, then back up. “Are you two… like, back together-back together?”
Lestat made a strangled sound. Louis glared sideways at him.
“Not officially,” Louis said. “But we’re… trying.”
Claudia wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”
And there it was , the flicker of a smile. Small. Real.
Louis stepped closer, searching her face. “And you? Are you okay? You’ve been quiet for a while. Is it… is it Madeleine?”
Claudia blinked, visibly caught off guard.
“She’s not answering your texts,” Louis said gently. “I figured.”
Claudia’s shoulders dropped a little. “She left town,” she murmured. “Last week. Said she needed space. That it was all… too much.”
Louis waited.
“She said she loved me,” Claudia added, voice breaking just a little. “But that I scared her sometimes. That I’m intense. That I love too hard.”
Louis’s heart ached. He reached out, brushing her shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with loving hard.”
“She said she’d come back.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I don’t know,” Claudia admitted. “I want to. But I don’t know.”
Louis pulled her into a soft hug. For a moment, she resisted , pride flaring , but then she melted into him, forehead pressed against his shoulder.
“I’m tired of being the one people run from,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to be alone in it,” Louis murmured. “Not with me. Not with us.”
He glanced at Lestat, who, for once, just nodded , silent and solemn.
When Claudia finally pulled back, her eyes were dry, but her voice was low. “You two owe me beignets. For emotional damages.”
Lestat actually laughed. “Done.”
“And coffee,” she added.
“I’ll get it,” Louis said. “You pick the place.”
Claudia took one last glance between them. “Fine. But if you make out in front of me, I’m hexing both of you.”
“Noted,” Louis said with a wry smile.
And the three of them began walking, not quite like old times , but close enough.
Later that evening
The Quarter was quieter by nightfall, the clamor of tourists fading into a hush of clinking glasses and the occasional jazz trumpet drifting from a balcony. Back at Claudia’s place, Claudia had long since claimed the chaise lounge, headphones on, lost in a book she wasn’t really reading.Lestat had left soon after they arrived.
Louis stood on the balcony, phone in hand, staring down at the contact he hadn’t dialed in months.
Madeleine Rousseau
Still saved. Still there.
He didn’t know what he expected , voicemail, maybe. A curt reply. An echo of the coldness Claudia had described. But after three rings, the line clicked alive.
“Hello?”
The voice was soft. Familiar.
Louis cleared his throat. “It’s Louis. Louis de Pointe du Lac.”
A pause.
“…Hi,” she said finally. “I wasn’t expecting…Is Claudia okay?”
“She is,” Louis said quickly. “Today was… hard. But she’s okay. She misses you.”
“I know,” Madeleine murmured. “I miss her too. It just… it got complicated.”
“I’m not calling to pressure you,” Louis said. “I promise. But her birthday’s in a few days. She’s not expecting anything. She acts like it doesn’t matter , like she doesn’t care. But I know she does. And I thought… if there was even the smallest part of you that might want to see her… it could mean a lot.”
Another pause.
“Is she mad at me?” Madeleine asked quietly.
“No,” Louis said, and meant it. “Just hurt. But not angry. She talks about you like she still sees you in every window.”
A soft breath on the line. Then:
“I don’t know if I can walk back into her life like nothing happened.”
“You wouldn’t be,” Louis said. “You’d be walking in because something still matters. You don’t have to make promises. You don’t even have to stay long. Just… be there. Let her see you. Let her know you’re not gone forever.”
He waited. The silence stretched long, the city humming below him.
Then:
“Send me the time and place.”
Louis smiled, the kind that warmed all the way through. “Thank you.”
“I can’t promise anything,” she added.
“You just did enough.”
They said goodbye. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, exhaling into the quiet. Behind him, the glass door creaked open. Claudia stepped onto the balcony barefoot, arms folded tight.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
Louis turned to her, the faintest trace of a secret in his smile. “Just thinking. About you.”
She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t look away. “You’re up to something.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe not.”
“You’re so bad at lying.”
He smiled again, this time more gently. “You’ll see.”
Claudia gave him a long, searching look , then leaned her head briefly on his shoulder. Just for a breath.
“I’m glad we’re okay,” she murmured.
“Me too,” Louis said. “More than you know.”
Louis lingered by the door a moment longer than necessary, watching Claudia as she curled deeper into her armchair, half-asleep, the soft glow of her reading lamp casting a halo around her hair. He didn’t say goodbye , just a gentle “I’ll see you tomorrow,” knowing she preferred it that way. The night air met him with a warm breeze as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, jacket slung over his shoulder, thoughts already drifting toward Lestat. Toward home. Toward the one place he hadn’t expected to want to return to, and now couldn’t imagine leaving behind.
Louis climbed the steps slowly, his fingers curling around the railing, a strange warmth blooming in his chest as he reached the front door.
He still had a key. It felt both ordinary and intimate to use it, slipping it into the lock without hesitation. The door clicked open with familiar ease.
Inside, the apartment was dim and hushed, lit only by the last rays of sunlight filtering through the tall windows. Lestat wasn’t in the living room, but Louis could hear faint music coming from the kitchen , a slow jazz melody, something soft and unobtrusive. He toed off his shoes and made his way toward the sound, the smell of something herbal and citrusy drifting through the air.
Lestat stood at the stove, barefoot, hair damp from a recent shower, sleeves rolled up. He looked over his shoulder when he heard Louis enter , just a glance, but it was enough. His expression softened.
“You’re back,” he said, voice low.
Louis nodded, stepping closer. “You left the light on.”
Lestat smirked faintly. “Always. In case you change your mind.”
A silence settled between them, but it wasn’t heavy , it was easy, lived-in, the kind of quiet that wrapped around them like a blanket. Louis watched Lestat stir something in a pan, his movements calm, precise. Domestic. The kind of thing he never thought Lestat capable of before.
“Claudia’s okay,” Louis said, settling against the counter. “She was tired. I didn’t want to overwhelm her.”
Lestat nodded. “You were good with her earlier. Thank you for coming back.”
Louis studied him, his profile bathed in amber light. “You looked like you needed me.”
“I did,” Lestat said simply.
Another pause.
Louis reached out, just lightly touching the back of Lestat’s hand where it rested on the counter. His touch was featherlight, barely there , but Lestat stilled.
“I’m here,” Louis added, quieter this time.
And Lestat turned toward him then, fully, his eyes searching Louis’s face. Not pleading , not anymore , but open in a way that still caught Louis off guard. They didn’t need to say it again. Not yet.
They didn’t move to kiss, didn’t reach for more. They just stood like that, the silence between them not empty, but full of something tender.
Eventually, Lestat smiled softly. “Dinner’s going to burn.”
Louis didn’t move his hand. “Let it.”
Notes:
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Chapter 25: Madeleine…
Summary:
Sorry yall 😬I’m just lazy right now🤭😝
Chapter Text
(Claudia’s POV)
The rain was gentle this morning, a soft pattering against the window that made it easier to stay curled up under the covers longer than I intended. The world outside was gray and quiet, but inside my apartment, the stillness felt heavier than usual. Tomorrow was my birthday. Or at least, it was supposed to be.
I don’t know why birthdays feel so strange without Madeleine. Maybe because she always made a fuss over every little thing , the way she’d buy too many candles, or the ridiculous cakes she insisted on ordering even when I said I didn’t want one. Without her, the day feels empty, like a room missing its warmest corner.
I pulled myself up slowly, the familiar ache in my shoulders a dull reminder that I hadn’t really slept. The apartment was too clean , too neat, actually , but I didn’t have the heart to make a mess. It felt like keeping control, in a world that so often spun beyond it.
In the kitchen, the kettle hissed to life, and I wrapped my hands around the mug of tea I poured. Steam blurred the windows, and I watched raindrops tracing lazy paths down the glass, not unlike the slow tears I tried not to think about.
The scent of lavender soap reminded me of her. I hated that. Why do memories cling to the smallest things?
I shoved the thought away and tried to focus on the day ahead. There were errands to run, groceries to buy, bills to pay. Simple distractions.
The market was bustling in that familiar chaotic way that made me feel both lost and grounded all at once. I moved through the stalls slowly, listlessly, eyes skimming over fruits and flowers and the usual clutter of life. I kept my headphones in, the music a low hum I could drown in when the world felt too loud.
A breeze carried a faint scent of jasmine, and for a moment, I thought it was Madeleine’s perfume. My chest tightened and I blinked hard, forcing myself to focus on the list in my hand.
I avoided the flower stall, even though the bouquets were more beautiful than I remembered. Maybe tomorrow, I thought, I’d buy some. Maybe I’d be ready by then.
I ran into a few neighbors , polite smiles, the usual questions about how I was doing. I gave answers that sounded like half-truths. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone how empty it felt. Not yet.
Back home, I tried to lose myself in a book, but the words floated by without landing. My mind kept drifting to the small photo of Madeleine tucked between the pages , her smile, her wild laugh, the way she made everything seem brighter.
I sighed and closed the book. The apartment felt too quiet again.
Afternoon light spilled through the windows, soft and golden despite the lingering gray sky. I sat by the window, a sketchpad in my lap, pencil hovering but unmoving. I wanted to draw, to capture something , anything , but the lines refused to come.
Instead, I traced the edges of memories: the way Madeleine’s fingers curled around a paintbrush, the way she’d hum while working, the quiet determination in her eyes.The painting Madeleine had painted of her.
I tried not to let the ache settle too deep. Sometimes it crept in like a slow tide, pulling me under when I least expected it.
I glanced at my phone. No new messages. Not from Madeleine.
I told myself to be patient. Tomorrow was almost here.
The evening deepened, the apartment shadows stretching longer across the walls. I curled up on the couch, the weight of the day settling into my bones.
I debated opening a bottle of wine or just going to bed early, pretending the day didn’t matter. Neither option felt quite right.
My phone buzzed softly in the quiet. I didn’t recognize the number at first. Then I saw .Louis.
I have a surprise for you tomorrow. Meet me at my and Lestat’s apartment. Just be ready.
Just those words. No other details, no hints.
I stared at the screen, heart pounding in a way I hadn’t felt in weeks.
Suspicion warred with hope. What could it be?
I typed a reply, then deleted it. Finally, I settled on something neutral: Okay.
I set the phone aside and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow felt suddenly different.
Maybe not so empty after all.
Notes:
The famous portrait of Claudia that Madeleine did.🤭😝
Y’all copy the link cause I don’t know how to put images on here😬
: https://pin.it/7tTbCQ8QJ
Chapter 26: The Birthday Party
Summary:
Guyssss leave comments it’s like the best part art of writing fanfics and getting new ideas for the next chapters!!
Chapter Text
The sunlight slipped softly through the blinds, painting stripes across the sheets. I stirred, still half-lost in sleep, and felt the warmth of Lestat beside me. He was quiet, the rise and fall of his chest steady, rhythmic. I let my hand drift across the curve of his shoulder, tracing the line of his collarbone, feeling the steady heat of him beneath my fingertips.
He shifted slightly, not fully awake, and I leaned closer, brushing a stray strand of hair back from his forehead. Lestat’s eyes fluttered open, catching mine, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
“Morning,” I whispered back, our hands still entwined. For a moment, neither of us moved, just savoring the quiet intimacy. The apartment felt like its own little world, separate from the noise outside, from the pressures waiting for us later.
Lestat’s fingers found mine again, curling around them gently, and he pulled my hand to his cheek. I rested my palm against his skin, feeling the warmth, the slight stubble tickling. His eyes searched mine, something soft and unspoken passing between us. I couldn’t help the small smile that touched my lips.
Eventually, the world outside demanded we move. Lestat stretched, his body brushing against mine in a casual, lingering touch that made me shiver. “You always take forever to wake up,” he teased, his grin playful now.
“I’m enjoying the view,” I shot back, and his laugh was low and warm, filling the room with a sound I could carry in my chest all day.
We slid from the bed reluctantly, making our way to the kitchen. I set the kettle on while Lestat leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching me with that half-smile, half-admiring expression that never failed to make my heart thrum.
“Tea?” I asked, holding up the mug as if offering a peace treaty.
“Always,” he said, and the word was simple, but the way he said it made it feel like a promise.
We moved around each other easily, a dance we didn’t need to choreograph. Hands brushed, a lingering touch on a hip, a brush of fingers as he passed behind me. I felt grounded and free all at once.
Breakfast was quiet, save for the clink of spoons and the soft hum of the kettle. Lestat kept stealing glances at me, and I caught him, our eyes meeting, lingering, a silent conversation that didn’t require words.
After we ate, we began preparing for Claudia’s surprise. The apartment needed a little tidying, flowers to set, a cake Louis had carefully selected to delight her without overwhelming. Lestat moved beside me, sometimes brushing against my shoulder, sometimes leaning over to whisper a soft, teasing remark about my meticulousness. I rolled my eyes but smiled, catching his hand when it lingered on mine a second too long.
The day passed slowly, each hour steeped in quiet affection. We ran errands, picking up last-minute touches. Lestat insisted on carrying the cake, and I argued, mostly in jest, about the risk of smudging the frosting. He grinned, brushing a kiss against my temple as if to say, I can handle it.
Returning to the apartment, we worked together, setting the room just so. I could see the excitement in his eyes, the way he reached for me to steady my hands as we arranged the flowers. I leaned into him, feeling safe and warm, the worries of the world melting into the simple act of being together.
By late afternoon, the apartment smelled faintly of cake and flowers. I sank into the couch, Lestat beside me, his arm draped across my shoulders. “Tomorrow,” he murmured, nuzzling my neck, “She’s going to love it.”
“I hope so,” I whispered, closing my eyes for a moment, savoring the comfort of him. The day had been soft, slow, tender, filled with touches and looks and the quiet thrill of anticipation.
The sun had begun to dip when my phone buzzed. I reached for it, my heart skipping. A message from Claudia.
I’ve got a surprise for you tomorrow. Meet me at my and Lestat’s apartment. Just be ready.
I stared at the screen, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. Lestat squeezed my hand, a silent question in his eyes. I smiled, nodding. Tomorrow was going to be perfect.
For now, though, I let myself rest in the quiet of the evening, Lestat beside me, the world outside fading to a soft blur.
The apartment had finally quieted down. The last of the dishes were put away, the flowers arranged just so, and the soft glow of the lamps bathed the room in golden light. I sank onto the couch, feeling the day’s exhaustion settle into my bones.
Lestat joined me, brushing a strand of hair from my face before settling beside me. I leaned into him instinctively, his warmth enveloping me, his arm draping over my shoulders. We didn’t need words. The quiet, the soft rhythm of our breathing, the gentle touches were enough.
“Today went well,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Yes,” I whispered back, letting my eyes drift closed. “It did.”
We shifted, curling against each other on the couch until we moved slowly to the bed, still wrapped in the comfort of our closeness. His hand found mine under the covers, fingers entwined, and I felt a wave of peace wash over me.
“Sleep,” he said softly, brushing his lips against my forehead.
I nodded, resting my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was the kind of quiet I wanted to hold onto forever.
The world outside faded. The last thoughts in my mind were of the day , soft touches, quiet laughter, the warmth between us. And then, finally, sleep claimed us both, tangled together and safe in the intimacy we had nurtured all day.
The first thing I felt was warmth.
Not the thin, fleeting kind from the morning sun, but the steady, grounding warmth of Lestat’s body pressed against mine. His arm was still around me, heavy in the most comforting way, our fingers loosely intertwined where they’d fallen during the night.
I kept my eyes closed for a moment, letting myself stay in the haze between sleep and waking. I could feel his breath against my hair, slow and even, and the faint scent of his cologne clung to the sheets.
“Mm,” came the softest hum from him. I realized he was awake too, though neither of us moved.
“Morning,” I murmured into his shirt.
“Morning, mon amour,” he replied, voice still thick with sleep. His fingers traced idle patterns against the back of my hand, and I smiled at the lazy intimacy of it.
We stayed there longer than we should have, considering we had a birthday party to prepare for. But the thought of leaving this cocoon, of pulling away from his warmth, felt almost impossible.
Eventually, he tilted his head down to look at me. “We should get up,” he said, though he made no move to do so.
I gave him a small smirk. “Should we?”
He chuckled quietly, brushing his knuckles along my jaw before leaning in for a slow, lingering kiss , the kind that didn’t try to start anything, just spoke of quiet contentment.
The rest of the world could wait a little longer.
We eventually made it out of bed , reluctantly , and wandered into the kitchen, still half wrapped around each other. I made coffee while Lestat leaned against the counter, watching me with that insufferably fond expression that made it impossible to be annoyed.
“Groceries,” I reminded him as I set a mug in front of him. “We still need wine, fruit, and…” I tried to remember the rest of the list.
“Pastries,” he supplied, far too cheerfully for someone who’d refused to leave bed twenty minutes ago.
We took our time getting ready, moving through the apartment in a haze of quiet touches and casual kisses. By the time we stepped outside, the morning air was warm and bright, and he immediately took my hand as we walked toward the market.
It was mundane , stopping for fresh strawberries, debating which wine to grab, waiting in line at the bakery , yet every moment felt charmed. He’d lean down to murmur something ridiculous in my ear, and I’d pretend to be exasperated, though I couldn’t stop smiling.
By the time we got back, our bags were full, the apartment smelled faintly of coffee and sunlight, and the party felt close enough to touch.
By the time we unpacked the groceries, the apartment was glowing in the late afternoon light. Lestat busied himself arranging the fruit platter with unnecessary flourish, humming some old tune under his breath, while I handled the drinks. Every so often, he’d wander over just to steal a kiss or nudge his nose against mine as if the distance was unbearable.
The final touches came together easily , wine in the coolers, pastries displayed on the counter, candles lit in the living room. We had prepared most of it yesterday, so there was nothing to rush over, nothing to stress about.
“Perfect,” he said finally, stepping back to survey our work. “Now all we need are the people.”
They came sooner than I expected , the low hum of voices in the hallway, a knock on the door, then a burst of warmth as friends spilled inside with laughter and gifts. Lestat greeted each one like a prince welcoming his court, while I trailed behind, offering drinks and smiling at the easy familiarity in the air.
Even with the room filling up, I felt his hand find mine whenever we passed each other. It was like a quiet thread between us , a reminder that no matter how many people were here, we were still in that soft little world we’d been wrapped in all morning.
And as the music started and the conversations tangled together, I knew this party would be less about the noise and more about that unshakable closeness.
The room swelled with warmth and noise, glasses clinking in the kitchen, someone’s laughter bursting over the music. Lestat moved through the crowd with a natural ease, a glass of champagne in one hand, his other reaching out to me whenever I drifted too far away. I didn’t think anyone else noticed, but his thumb brushed the inside of my wrist every time our hands touched, like he was checking that I was still there.
Halfway through topping off someone’s drink, I heard the knock. It was softer than the others had been, deliberate. When I opened the door, Daniel Molloy was standing there, the city’s night chill still clinging to his coat. Behind him, Armand stood with the kind of quiet composure that made him seem immune to the chaos around us.
“Louis,” Daniel greeted, his smile both familiar and edged with curiosity, as if he was already cataloguing the scene for some invisible notepad.
“Come in,” I said, stepping aside. Lestat was there in an instant, greeting Daniel with the kind of enthusiasm that seemed almost theatrical before turning to Armand. The two men exchanged the briefest nod, and it was hard to tell whether it was civility or an unspoken truce.
Armand’s gaze flickered to me, assessing in that way of his that never quite felt like judgment but carried weight all the same. “It’s a lively night,” he said, voice low enough to be nearly swallowed by the music.
“We’ve been in preparation mode since yesterday,” I admitted. “Today was just… fine-tuning.”
Daniel smirked at that. “Fine-tuning. Looks more like you’ve thrown half a wedding in here.”
Lestat, hearing this, laughed and slipped an arm around my waist as if to prove the point. “Every gathering should be beautiful,” he said, pressing a kiss against my temple in full view of both of them. Daniel’s brows lifted slightly, but his smile didn’t falter.
They moved into the room with the rest of the guests, Daniel diving into conversation with someone near the drinks table while Armand lingered by the window, watching the city below as though it was performing just for him. Lestat tugged me toward the kitchen, murmuring, “Don’t disappear on me,” before releasing me to tend to the wine.
Throughout the night, our paths crossed again and again , his fingers brushing mine when I passed him a glass, my hand smoothing his shirt collar when he leaned too close. Even in the noise, the heat of him never quite left me. And every so often, I’d catch Daniel glancing over at us, not unkindly, just watching with the look of someone who’d guessed far more than we’d said aloud.
The low hum of voices filled the apartment, music threading lazily through the warm air. Sunlight bled gold over the city through the tall windows, catching in the rim of champagne flutes and the gleam of polished wood. Louis was standing beside the table of neatly arranged hors d’oeuvres, Lestat a few steps away, a hand resting on the back of a chair as he charmed a small circle of guests.
The door to the apartment opened slowly . Louis looked up , and froze.
Madeleine.
She stepped out with a smile that was almost shy, her hands cradling a small box wrapped in cream paper. It was the exact sort of gift Claudia would love, and the sight of her there , unexpected, unannounced , landed in Louis’s chest like a weight.
Across the room, Lestat had noticed too. His gaze found Louis instantly, and in that single shared look, a quiet understanding passed between them. No questions, no hesitation.
Louis moved first, crossing the space with smooth, unhurried steps, greeting Madeleine with a warm murmur. He didn’t let the surprise flicker on his face; instead, he leaned in, brushing a light kiss to her cheek.
“You’re early,” he said softly, low enough that no one else could hear. “Claudia isn’t here yet. Let me… find somewhere you can wait. It’ll be better that way.”
Madeleine’s brows lifted faintly in confusion, but she nodded.
Meanwhile, Lestat turned ever so slightly, drawing the attention of half the room. He laughed at something a guest said, spinning it into a charming story about Paris in the spring, his voice rich and animated. It was enough to anchor every curious glance away from the door, giving Louis the cover he needed.
Louis guided Madeleine through the side hallway toward the guest room, speaking to her in a low tone, explaining just enough to make her understand that this was meant as a surprise for Claudia, timed carefully. She agreed without fuss, tucking the gift under her arm.
By the time Louis returned to the main room, Lestat’s story had ended, his audience chuckling. Their eyes met again , quick, subtle , and Louis saw the faintest curve of approval in Lestat’s mouth.
Then came another knock,this one brisk and familiar,cut through the air.
Louis’s pulse jumped.
He caught Lestat’s glance, then moved quickly to the door.
When he opened it, Claudia stood there, a knit hat pulled low over her curls, cheeks flushed from the cold. She blinked, clearly not expecting him to be the one answering.
“Happy birthday,” Louis said simply, before stepping back.
The moment she crossed the threshold, the room erupted!
“Surprise!”
Claudia froze in the doorway, eyes wide as the full scope of the scene hit her: the lights, the decorations, the crowd of familiar faces smiling at her. She turned to Louis, jaw dropping.
“You…” She shook her head, half laughing, half stunned. “You did this?”
Louis just smiled, letting her read the answer in his eyes.
Louis stepped forward as Claudia blinked in disbelief, her hands lifting instinctively to her face. He pressed his palms lightly over her eyes, murmuring in her ear, “Not yet. I have one more surprise for you.”
She laughed nervously, shuffling forward as he guided her gently toward the side room. “Louis, what…”
“Shh,” he hushed, his hands firm but tender, his presence grounding. “Just trust me.”
With Lestat close behind, smoothly engaging a few guests to draw attention, Louis led Claudia into the smaller, softly lit room. He kept his hands over her eyes until they were inside, then lowered them.
“Okay,” he whispered, stepping back slightly. “You can look now.”
Claudia’s eyes widened as they landed on Madeleine, waiting with a shy but radiant smile and a small, beautifully wrapped gift. The room felt suddenly intimate, suspended in its own quiet warmth amidst the bustle outside.
“Madeleine?” Claudia’s voice broke in surprise and delight.
Louis just smiled, watching the moment unfold, feeling the tension in Claudia’s shoulders melt into a soft, joyful light. Madeleine stepped forward, extending the gift, and Claudia reached out, her hands brushing hers.
“Happy birthday,” Louis said again, his voice steady but full of affection. “This one’s just for you.”
Notes:
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