Work Text:
“You sure you wanna sit out? ’Bout as cold as it gets in New Orleans tonight,” Louis said. We were sitting in what we’d come to consider our spot, a wrought iron bench in Jackson Square under the towering magnolia trees.
“Ah, well the always considerate municipal authorities have put out these cheerful fires just for us, it seems,” I said with a laugh, motioning to the barrels full of pine and oak merrily crackling just a few feet away. Such barrels were set up every 20 ft or so in the empty square, provided on such deathly cold nights as this 8 degree evening. “Besides, I’d hate to break the ritual of our Thursday evening…how did your sister say it? Catting around?”
“Ha, yeah, Grace is…a handful. When Paul was in the hospital in Jackson she’d act the hysteric when someone mentioned his name. She’s not a hysteric, she just thought she was supposed to act like one,” Louis smiled as he spoke and then began focusing on his shoes. I could get lost in that smile for hours when he turned his full attention on me, but he seemed hesitant to look me in the face. I had to use all my concentration to keep my hands from reaching for him. Things needed to develop slowly. He needed to love me before he knew what I was. I checked in with his thoughts to see the progress.
The fire’s the problem. Christ lord, his eyes in this low firelight. They’re incandescent like the glass around old oil lamps. It’s all just too… If only he knew how badly I want to kiss him–need to kiss him. Do…do other things to him. This damn fire.
I tried not to listen too much to Louis’ thoughts. It would seem to cheapen our courtship and even then, I wanted to make him a vampire, so I practiced being shut off from him as much as possible. But he locked so much away even while cautiously opening up to me during our talks, he left me no choice. With the words, images of exactly what he’d like to do to me flashed through my mind. All possible permutations of physical pleasure raced through his thoughts. He looked at me and I smiled, which only made his imaginings wilder. As he so often did when imagining my body and his, he reached into his coat for his flask and took a long draw. He offered it to me. I always refused, and yet he always offered.
“I never thought I would be grateful for growing up with all elder brothers,” I said. “Though the way you speak of Grace makes me think I still would have been better off.”
“She and I look out for each other. I look out for Paul. Yours didn’t look out for you?”
“Ah, no,” I said, shaking my head. This wasn’t a thread of conversation I was interested in pursuing. I wanted him to speak, not revisit ancient memories better left lying in the dust. I’d apply some mild torture to Louis for attempting to bring those cretins into my thoughts. “Grace and her wedding…I wonder why you have not married Louis?”
He has to know. He has to know by now.
“Married? Ain’t I already got enough problems,” he said with a laugh, putting a stop to his own thoughts. No one need shame Louis for his actions, he even policed his own internal workings and desires. He was beginning to realize he was in love with me, but dismissed the idea out of hand. Despite my deep sorrow for him, I laughed alongside him. It made him feel bolder. “I mean…what about you? Handsome, rich…you seem like a catch.”
What the fuck was that? “You seem like a catch.” Goddamn what a stupid thing to say. He was making conversation and you go digging around for…something. I don’t know what.
“Same as you…marriage seems an unnecessary complication. Who needs someone at home, asking you where you were, where you’re going, how you are spending— C’est pas pour moi ,” I said.
Same as me? What does he mean by that? Lestat if you was the same as me I wouldn’t mind coming home to you. It’s usually so easy to tell. I can’t tell if he’s queer or just really…French. I'd never risk it. I'd rather have him as a friend than someone I can barely make eye contact with on the street.
“Eh, you’re still young. You’ll change your mind eventually,” Louis said.
“Will you?” I said. He looked into my eyes for a moment, got a hold of himself and shot his eyes back down to his shoes. His heartbeat fluttered and raced. Blood rushed to his cheeks and he glowed with life. He took out his cigarettes simply so he could focus on something other than my face. He took two out of the pack and held them both in his perfectly curved lips. More visions came, less wanton this time. Louis kissing the back of my neck as we lay together. Louis brushing my hair from my eyes. Dancing with me.
Goddamn it. Reel. It. In. You are going to lose a good friend if you keep this little fantasy up. Then you'll never see him again. Better to keep him as close as I can. As I'll ever be able to.
I thought about taking his hand in that moment, of throwing all caution and careful planning to the four winds. Of wrapping my arms around him and begging him to be mine, mine forever. Here he was, my Louis, breaking his own heart over me before I even had the chance! Broken seemed a comfortable state of being for him. It was painful, but at least it was safe, familiar. I wanted to examine each piece, cherish the weight of it in my hand and then put him back together. A complete picture of Louis, just a few small cracks.
“Here,” Louis said. His hand shook slightly from the adrenaline of his desire as he took one of the cigarettes from his mouth and handed it to me.
“
Merci
,” I said softly, letting our fingers brush against each other.