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Louis looked up from his files when Amanda approached with a small stack of papers in hand. He raised an eyebrow as she stopped in front of him. Her pencil skirt had creases on it and her heart was beating fast. Louis questioned why they made flight attendants heels, as if they were not high enough in the air. Though Amanda was not a flight attendant but rather another of Armand's abundant staff.
“A fax came through, documents of the Curator in England, Mr. du Lac.” That was odd. Louis frowned and gestured for her to come closer. She put the documents in his outstretched hand gently.
“Thank you,” he said softly as he skimmed through them.
The Curator in England was a short white man, English and thought Armand an idiot and Louis nothing more than a useless waste of air. As progressive in racial bias Europe liked to think itself there was always someone who proved them wrong.
But money talked more than whatever opinion someone said and Louis had money. It had taken a while for Armand to come around. He still labelled what Louis did as a hobby. And sometimes Louis caught him looking down on it – even when it brought them both enjoyment.
If the art curator in England was faxing him on his flight to America then it must mean that Armand had decided against buying the art. He neared the papers again and handed them to Amanda, who took them. “Shred it, please.” She nodded and started to walk away when Louis added, “And don't bring anything more. I'd like no disturbance until we land.”
She stopped, turned, gave a slight bow and said, “Yes, Mr. du Lac.” And walked away.
Louis didn't have to wait long to feel the familiar mental push, gently demanding to be let in. He smiled despite himself.
Did you decline Mr. Waverley’s deal on the Impressionist Artworks?
Armand's mind was easy to fall into and very difficult to get out of. He could see a glimpse of where he was. A casual stroll to the normal viewer but Louis knew he was on a hunt. He didn't know who it was, just that Armand wasn't particularly in a rush today. Odd that he wanted to talk to Louis at this time. His prey always took his focus when fed.
He could feel Armand's amusement. But beyond that simmered something else he couldn't pinpoint.
How did you know?
Got a fax from him. Louis put down the notes on the seat beside him and crossed his legs. You weren't supposed to contact me until after I landed.
Ah. But I missed you, beloved.
Louis huffed out a sigh. Armand was such a liar. I'm not going to spontaneously combust. I'm not as fragile as you make me out to be.
Like I said. I missed you. I did not call to pick a fight.
I'm not fighting, he wanted to grumble out but kept quiet. Instead he turned his head to the view. The clouds were nonexistent. The plane felt suffocating. It also felt like the safest place to be. Louis closed his eyes and let himself be killed by the pull of Armand's mind. Where he was on land. And the ocean was right there. And the sun.
Louis envied Armand's ability in being able to walk in the sun. He missed its vibrancy, its warmth. I miss you, too. He sends out gently.
There was that feeling under there, mixed with Armand's amusement and love. It felt like worry. It felt like anger. It felt like turmoil. Everything and nothing at once. It bothered Louis. It's been there for ever since he offered to go to America alone and Armand says that it's all in Louis’ head.
He lets it go. Enjoys the mental company of Armand and lets it lull him into sleep.
It was three hours away from sunrise when Louis landed. He was supposed to meet one Samantha Morris. People ran around, taking his luggage and Amanda hovering in the background, always near. Sometimes Armand's staff irritated him on their hovering. They mimicked Armand alarmingly well.
A blacked out Limousine drove in slowly and stopped near the runway. The passenger door opened and Louis' eyes went to her afro. It was one which reminded him of the eighties and seventies. Rare to see someone with no braids or wigs installed. But as she approached he noticed that it was an extension of her hair. Her skin was incredibly clear.
She outstretched her hand. “Welcome to America.” Louis can't help the amusement he feels at the words. He has lived in America even before she was born and longer than she was alive.
Despite that, he doesn't forget his manners, “Thank you.”
“I'm Samantha Morris, your guide and hopefully future partner. Am I to assume you are…Louis du Lac?”
Louis nods. Before he can say anything else Amanda steps forward. Louis drops her hand as she introduces herself and fires her questions. The two women brief each other on happenings and Amanda takes care of all conversations that are nonsensical and trivial. It is only when they arrive at the museum where they are storing the art does Louis get to dismiss Amanda.
“You're the first person to request such an odd time to discuss. I understand it's because of religious beliefs but it has me curious.”
Louis hums and tries not to show his surprise. Had Armand said that? He didn't know whether it made him want to laugh or sparked an irritation to his husband. As much as he wanted to reach out and confront him, Louis didn't. He could survive without Armand for a day, he was sure.
“Or it could be because of jetlag.” He offered. Trying to take control of the situation.
“I'd give you that.” She nodded her head to him. “Are you satisfied with what you have seen so far?”
It was midnight and the museum was mostly shut. It was only Ms. Morris and him. Though it was well lit, it reminded him of him and Armand at the museum. Exploring. Dancing around each other.
“More than,” he answered. “I see a prosperous future for our partnership.”
She beamed at him and could barely rush out a ‘thank you’ over her excitement in her mind. Her mental voice was very loud. Louis smiled back at her, enjoying her joy. And oh look, she had a dimple on her left cheek.
For some reason, or rather for a reason he avoided, it was bittersweet.
When they parted ways, Louis gave her his personal number on a whim. When he arrived at the rented penthouse, the sun was almost about to rise. He slept as soon as he settled into bed.
Louis extends his stay in America from six days to a month. When Armand asks why he gives the reason – the excuse – that the pieces that are available are worth the wait and that he wants more of them. When Armand offers to accompany him and leave Dubai, Louis says that he has got everything under control and that they should have some distance so they can remember how it feels to be missed and miss someone.
Armand says that it's stupid. He still ensures Louis' whims and Louis is grateful for it.
Ms. Morris calls him often over the first few days. All about business and connections and this and that and the other thing.
Only after two weeks does she use the personal number Louis had given her. She calls him for a cup of coffee. Louis declines and instead invites her to the penthouse in the afternoon. She agrees.
When she arrives she has a raincoat on and it's orange. It suits her skin so well. Louis helps her take it off and she brushes past him. Her mind is filled with memories of recent events. Snippets of people. Something exciting that she has heard news of.
He has food brought up so it's already plated. He pulls the chair for her. Her smile is warm. “This is more than just a small lunch and a coffee.”
“I aim to impress.” He replies as he picks up his cutlery. It is only because he was listening in that he catches the thought. So definitely not Christian. Or maybe he doesn't pray before he eats.
Louis pauses. It feels like his breath got knocked out of him. He looks up at her, catches her eye.
“Pray for us?” He asks, and it comes out tight.
She prays. Louis says Amen and it's harder than usual to shove the food down his throat.
Louis tells her he's leaving at the end of the month. They are having their second lunch date and Ms. Morris has just found out that Louis is gay. They share stories of their partners (she being recently broken up with) over a nice cup of coffee.
She thinks Armand is sweet but controlling. She worries for him. It's sweet.
They sit together, a coffee table between them. It's late afternoon. She sits with her legs crossed, mirroring Louis. She noticed as she sipped her coffee. She says, “Before you go, I'd like to invite you to our family cookout.”
Louis is surprised by this. It feels as though he's always surprised around her. Always taken aback. He frowns, brings down his coffee to look over at her. Her mind is worried or anxious. “A cookout?”
“A family gathering. Food, kids running around, beer. It's going to be great. I'd like you to be there. You should come. Be with your people, Louis.”
A family gathering. Louis blinks. The coffee sits forgotten in his hand. “Are you shorting a plus one?”
She laughs. “Louis, you've become a friend. I want my friend to be there, obviously. My family doesn't believe me when I tell them about you. Least of all that someone so professional and sane would wear green contacts in his private time.”
Louis smiles at that. He had forgotten to put on his contacts when she came for a visit. It was only in the middle of their small lunch did she bring it up and Louis hadn't even noticed. Another surprise, how well she had taken to his oddness.
“Then tell me the occasion, so I can bring an appropriate gift.”
She shrugs. “Don't have one. The reason is family. Isn't the fact we missed each other a good enough occasion?”
It leaves him reeling over those words. He can barely smile at her jokingly saying that he should wear his coloured contacts to the cookout.
The reason is family.
The cookout starts at 4 pm. The sun sets at 6:34 pm. Louis brings beer and cool drinks and sweets. He tells Amanda to stay.
It was 6:30 when they drove up to the house. Louis texted Samantha (you can't keep calling me Ms. Morris in front of my family Louis) that he had arrived and was coming in soon.
A minute or two later she was out jogging towards his car. Her hair was braided today, a neat straight back with beads at the end. She wore a summer dress. It made her look softer. Louis opened the door, the last rays of the sun still leaking out. He didn't leave the safety of his car.
She stood in front of the open door. “You're early,” she joked and Louis rolled his eyes.
“Please hold the applause.”
She bowed and raised her hand as if to help him out of the car. He took her hand as the sun fully set. The night had begun. He raised an eyebrow at her once she straightened. “What? Figured you wanted princess treatment since you were taking your sweet time.”
“You said I was early,” he scoffed, looking down at her. She kissed her teeth. Louis couldn't fight back his smile. She helped him take out the snacks and drinks out the car and led the way to the back yard.
Louis stood at the edge of the field, feeling a ripple of warmth and nostalgia as he watched the gathering from a distance. The sun was gone but the light from the surrounding decorated lights was enough to bathe everything in golden light. Cooler in hand, filled with assorted beers and sweets he picked out carefully. He didn’t need the drinks or the food, but something about the act of bringing them, about contributing, made him feel human in a way he hadn’t in so long.
Someone who looked so much like Samantha waved at them, her smile wide as she beckoned them closer. Her invitation had been casual, almost an afterthought at the end of a conversation they’d had earlier in the week. But something about the sincerity of it, about the way she had said, "You should come, be with your people, Louis," had stayed with him. It tugged at his heart, which always felt a little too dead and heavy inside him. When he slept it didn't let him go. He had been anxious all the days leading up to this moment.
Now, surrounded by the laughter, the children running across the grass, the smell of grilled meat wafting through the air, he felt a distant ache. It was full of people. And true to her words there was a kids section. A small water slide. Simple yet effective in keeping them entertained. Though since the sun had gone, parents were trying to get them off and out of the water. Louis smiled as a little boy took off with the towel into the water again. The parent was disgruntled but laughter of those who saw the fit warmed him.
He set the cooler down on a table laden with all sorts of dishes—mac and cheese, collard greens, potato salad. The scents were rich, familiar. He greeted a few people, received nods and smiles, but he still hovered on the edge of the group, unsure of how to insert himself into this vibrant, pulsing life.
“You’re just gonna stand there, huh?” Samantha teased, sidling up to him. “Come on, man. Mingle.”
Louis gave her a small smile, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes but was kind enough to pass for genuine. “I’ll get there,” he said, his voice soft. “Just… taking it in.”
And he was. The laughter, the clatter of plates, the music someone had started playing from a portable speaker. R&B, smooth and slow. He hadn’t heard music like this in what felt like decades. It filled the air and made him want to close his eyes and remember— really remember —what it felt like to be human. To belong.
He always envied Lestat in this. In the way he knew Louis in his human life. Had access to his memories in the way Louis didn't. His first big birthday. Functions. Family gatherings. Grace's wedding.
Memories he could not remember as he was human. Yet another thing taken away by Lestat. Yet another thing traded for a family of his own. Smaller but no less important. Claudia. Lestat. Dancing together under the stars. Her first vampiric birthday.
His little family. Lost. Gone.
"You brought sweets?" A voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to see a young woman standing nearby, looking at the box of pastries he had brought.
"Yeah, a little something for after the meal," Louis responded.
"You're always so fancy with it," Samantha teased from beside him before walking away to rejoin a group of family members who had erupted into laughter over some inside joke.
Louis found himself inching closer to the group, listening to their stories, their easy banter. He could feel the rhythm of it, the way families had this shorthand with each other, a language all their own. He let it wash over him, bittersweet memories stirring. He remembered moments like this from long ago—before the curse, before the blood. Family gatherings in New Orleans, the laughter of his siblings, the clinking of glasses as they toasted to good fortune and health.
His heart clenched, the pang of loss sharp in his chest. How long had it been since he had been a part of something like this? Truly a part of it? Centuries, it felt like.
Armand was enough. It was what he felt. What he knew. But this…
The faces of those he loved had long since faded, replaced by the endless march of immortality.
This was something he hadn't- no what he had forgotten he had ever had and that he needed.
Samantha's look-alike, sensing his quiet retreat, nudged him gently. "You look like you're somewhere far away," she said.
He blinked, returning to the present, to the sunlight starting to soften, the shadows lengthening on the grass. "I am, in a way," he murmured, glancing at her with that small, distant smile again. "But I'm here too. It’s just... hard sometimes."
She looked at him, a little more seriously now. "I get that. But you’re here now. That’s what matters.” Louis tried to smile but the words held him close. Like a much needed hug. She put her hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. “Plus we're glad you're here. Not gonna lie, I didn't believe her about the contacts.”
Louis laughed. She pulled him in and welcomed him into a small circle of people. They insisted on a reason why he wears them and Louis divulged in a sweet lie. It felt good to joke. He took in their laughter. And when the kids were finally dry they went to the newest thing, apparently. Curious about his eyes. Unafraid.
The moon was higher now, its cool glow giving way to the warmer hues of the lights. Louis felt the familiar tug in his chest as the lights began to dim, a comfort and a curse all at once. His people—this gathering, this life—belonged to the day. He belonged to the night. He always would.
The kids were lead inside and the music was turned up. Dolly - Samantha's look alike which was her half-sister - pulled him to dance.
The music was upbeat and uncles danced moves he knew in their ears. Impressed that he knew them. The young ones challenged him, laughing when he messed up and cheering when he could keep up with them.
His chest was light. It felt like he was souring.
And most importantly the touching. The grazes. The half past and hugs always given freely.
Safe. Unafraid.
He hung back as a new set of songs began.
Amanda had told him she would be there at 1 a.m. to take him to the airport for his flight. The thought of leaving so soon nagged at him, but he also felt an odd sense of relief. There was only so long he could stay in this kind of warmth before it started to feel like a phantom pain, a reminder of everything he could never have again.
Louis stepped back further from crowd again, his eyes tracing the silhouettes of the people laughing, eating, dancing under the soft glow of hanging lights. He was both here and not here, a guest among his own kind but forever set apart by what he had become.
Bittersweet.
He had told Armand about it. On a call this time. Was able to see and feel Armand's irritation and confusion when he insisted he wanted to go. Why do you want to go? Armand had asked him. I'm just curious, is all, he'd answered. Then Armand had noted that his new Orleans accent was subtly rising out of him. Funny that it did. He was nowhere near the south.
At the time it had felt like curiosity, that is what he had told Armand. But now, looking around him, feeling the warmth of those around him, maybe it had been longing. To belong again. Somewhere. Somewhere other than his and Armand's world. Somewhere that felt bigger than his own life.
Samantha caught him again as he stood by himself, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the scene unfold. “You alright?” she asked softly.
“I am,” he said, turning to face her fully, his eyes soft but distant. “It’s just… I miss this. The life. The connections. But at the same time, it’s a reminder that I’m not… the same.”
She nodded slowly, understanding, though she couldn’t fully grasp the depth of what he meant. “You’ll always be part of this, though. Maybe not in the way you used to be, but you’re still family. You’re still you.”
Louis swallowed thickly, the weight of her words pressing against the walls he had built around his heart for centuries. “Thank you,” he whispered. For inviting me. He meant to say:
For letting me be here.
But she squeezed his shoulder and gave a small smile. It seemed as though she heard him even with all that was unsaid. Her dark brown eyes reflected his own. A time where he was human, almost a whole century later. He had needed this reminder.
He was glad he had come.
The night fell, and the laughter continued. Louis stayed longer than he thought he would, basking in the fading warmth of a life he could no longer fully claim, but could still touch. Just for a little while.
When he finally left, the echoes of laughter and the smell of food still clung to him, like a memory he’d carry with him through the endless night ahead.
In the plane back to Dubai, he felt the familiar brush of Armand’s mind. He let him in. Felt him settle and glide through the memories at the forefront of his mind.
Armand said nothing but Louis could still feel his relief at having him back and the bittersweet feeling of not being able to understand Louis ' need to connect to humanity.
Louis basked in the warmth of the family gathering as he closed his eyes and was grateful for Armand's patience and presence.
For the first time in a long time, he felt full and sated.