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He was floating.
Subconsciously chasing sunset, avoiding dawn, out of sight of the mortals.
He was bored, and despite Louis having recently left him his cell phone number Louis’ responses had been rather curt.
I have tickets to the opera, would you like to go?
I have plans
I didn’t say what night.
I’m a busy man, Lestat.
It’s Iolante?
I’m busy.
I thought you wanted me to text?
I do, but so far you only ever ask me out.
What else should I do?
Louis had— as Lestat believed the current vernacular was— left him on read for three nights now.
He’d skipped Iolante. It had been an impulse of nostalgia and it had felt pointless without Louis.
Lestat extracted the phone from his breast pocket to examine it again on the off chance his preternatural senses hadn’t detected it alerting him to Louis’ response.
What else should I do?
Read 3 days ago
“Well what else should I do!” Lestat yelled at the device. The temptation to let it go and let fate smash it was very strong. But he glanced down and realized he was above a city and there were mortals below. Unfair to kill some hapless stranger with a plummeting piece of technology. Even if Louis got over it, Lestat had to admit he probably never would.
He wrote another message, descending close enough to a cell tower for a signal to send.
What has you so busy Mon Ami?
There… he’d even been good and remembered to correct that the Cher word was off limits, “for now” before hitting send.
The three dots that had been explained meant he would know Louis was typing appeared almost instantly. “Petty.” Lestat mumbled.
I’ve just acquired a new artists work, very promising, and I’m already fielding offers.
Lestat was pleased that Louis was doing well with his businesses especially less restrained by petty laws like what had impacted their courtship, but Louis bringing business into art… was saddening.
May I see it?
Artist doesn’t allow photographs of his work.
Doesn’t allow? This sounds a little like “I have an island in Florida I can sell you.”
That would be your other boyfriend’s dealings.
He was your COMPANION longer than mine.
He regretted sending it the moment he did. Not so much the sentence but the emphasis.
The dots appeared…
Then vanished.
Lestat wrote
Apologies, that was a low blow.
No response.
How do your buyers verify you have the painting and it is authentic if there are no photographs allowed?
They come here.
And if one of those “buyers” is these idiot vampires broadcasting every night?
I told them all where I live, I’ve been dealing with them.
You’ve been dealing with them?
One or two have breached the penthouse. Most are scared off. Fire gift helps.
“Why do I have some of the most willful and headstrong fledgings!” He thought as he closed the phone. The black screen showing his pouting reflection.
Until it came to life indicating Louis had messaged.
Lestat opened it.
By the way, it’s not a painting.
Not a painting?
I’m expanding. Still in my preferred niche of queer and or POC artists or artworks, but just more than paintings.
Queer? Is that acceptable terminology again?
Not universally… It’s been reclaimed by some for people who don’t want to get caught up saying LGBTQIA+ and worry about missing a letter.
But I still should not say that other word that people ‘reclaim’?
If it’s the one starting with N and colloquially ending with “A” or a HARD R, correct, you cannot reclaim that word, it’s not yours. I don’t like using it, but the youth do.
Back to that missing a letter thing…
What about it?
What do you mean?
You really want me to explain modern gender and sexual identity to you via text?
Would you prefer I call?
No. Calling right now would not be good.
Lestat tried not to read into that.
He really did.
Is he there?
No he is not. But I’m not alone and dawn is approaching here. I need to wrap things up soon.
Tell me does he look more like me or like him?
More like Jonah. Goodnight Lestat I’m turning my phone off.
“He probably said that just to piss me off.” Lestat said to the empty air.
He rose again, looking towards the faint glow of sunset to the west. And smirked. He was forming a plan.
Could he have physically made it to the balcony of Louis’ penthouse before dawn was too strong for him? Probably. It was hard to judge. He was somewhere vaguely in the area of Chicago still drifting west, but if he flew as high and as fast as he could he could probably land in time.
But whether there’d be time for the inevitable fight about “boundaries”—whatever that actually meant— and Louis to reluctantly let him inside, or for Lestat to find somewhere to safely hide from the sun that was debatable.
No far better to land just before Louis woke so the fight would be done by midnight and they could move on to more fun things.
Like make up sex.
So slowly flying westward until night covered Louis’ resting place once more would kill the time and maximize the next night with Louis.
~~~~~
There was still a sliver of crimson on the edge of the sky as Lestat’s feet touched the balcony. He took a moment to smooth his hair and clothes, incase Louis did rise earlier than before and then let himself into the living room.
Near a bright yellow couch, a large crate that could have served well as a coffin alternative stood. Beside it a piece of marble two figures assembled from the stone, Lestat hesitated to even think of them as humanoid, embraced.
And yet…
It reminded him of those first nights holding Louis in his coffin before Louis had gotten his own.
“Have to admit I’m shocked you held off a day.” Louis voice said allowing a touch of the old accent in.
Lestat turned and looked at Louis emerging from the doorway, a goldenrod sweater hiding his figure, but that congenial smile blooming on his face.
“You’ve made it clear you’re a big bad adult vampire… and while I’m not exactly still on the ‘Shit List’ I’m not…” Lestat had been prepared for a fight. Any word he could think of was likely to start one.
And he didn’t want to, not if Louis didn’t…
“Besides… Even I have my limitations.” He finally said.
“Shocking.” Louis smiled.
“Especially to me.” Lestat grinned.
“Do you like the piece?”
“I’m not…” Lestat looked at it again, “It’s perhaps too modern for my mind Louis…”
“I very much doubt that…” Louis said stepping closer. “The artist was a young man in the 1980’s in San Fransisco. His lover was an older man, and they both resisted it for as long as they could. Fear mostly. Gay men around them were dying of what would eventually be known as AIDS, who in their right mind would choose the few fleeting moments of happiness that being with another man would bring if it condemned you to death.
“Eventually passion won out, and despite what everything around them said, that loving another man was a death sentence, they had a lifetime together and both lived long enough to get legally married in the United States. When his partner died he made this to remember that first night together, so that their first night together, giving in, letting love guide them, was the memorial.
“Not the death.”
Lestat looked at the assemblage of shapes, then looked back at Louis. He could remember those few moments of utter relief and ecstasy Louis had felt that night giving in to Lestat that first time. For those few hours Louis had let go of all the masks he’d had to wear back then, and had just enjoyed the body embracing him and the sensations he was feeling.
He’d also remembered that following morning as Louis and Lily had dressed that He was frantically sliding all those walls back into place. That he knew Lestat wasn’t white enough or rich enough to protect them enough to enjoy that every night.
Louis extracted a pair of glasses from a pocket somewhere, some oddly shaped golden plastic frames. “I’m expecting a buyer shortly, you don’t need to leave, but I am going to be working.” The glasses both enhanced— and Lestat imagined— made mortals not question the green of the eyes.
“How will I be least disruptive?” Lestat said.
“Just sit and be quiet… let me work. Like the old days. Are you hungry? I was planning to wait til later to have dinner but if you need something sooner I can have my staff...?”
“I can wait.” Lestat said softly. There was a certain amount of excitement he was trying to contain, he wasn’t being sent away and Louis might share a meal with him?
Lestat took a seat on the sofa, the bright yellow thing clearly drawing inspiration from the Arabian culture, and got comfortable as Louis shifted some chairs in front of a painting on the wall. “Not the sculpture?”
“No, they’re coming for the painting. Sculpture needs some time… to… develop further I think.”
“You think?”
“I still primarily buy things that appeal to me on some level… not just purely monetary value. But denying that others can enjoy them while lining my pockets when I know I may well have a chance to see the object again in a few decades… certainly doesn’t hurt.”
“Blessings of immortality. Your buyers have to hoard art because they only have one lifetime?”
“Precisely.” Louis’ butler arrived with a tray of water glasses and a pitcher which was placed on a small table between the chairs. “How’s your tour preparation?”
“Argerich didn’t retire, she’s got multiple concerts in the next few weeks, I could have, if I wanted to, a few days before my birthday gone to see her play the Beethoven triple in Shanghai.”
“Well she won’t live forever… someone will need to fill the gap some day I’m sure.” He saw Louis’ bemused smile.
“I may do something else.”
A gentle but deep tone filled the penthouse. “That means the elevator is three floors away and heading here.” Louis said softly.
“I will sit here and look pretty.”
“Good.” Louis smiled.
The clients visiting Louis had that look a lot of rich people did nowadays, that slight discomfort with their status that they wore it. Her through brand name everything, walking clashing logos and unmistakable patterns. Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Gucci. Him in a suit that he’d clearly spent a lot of money for whatever the label said, but hadn’t paid to have it tailored properly.
New money.
Not that Lestat could really point fingers remembering all the velvet and rings and trinkets he’d bought with Magnus’ gold that first winter of his new life. He’d been New Money with an old name once and probably were his exact story to happen now he’d be the walking billboard for every brand on the planet because he could.
Did he only really count as old money because he was old and developed his own style still? Funny thought.
A warning look from Louis indicated that he might have made some noise. “…Apologies, my friend dropped by unexpectedly, if you need him to leave-“
“Is he laughing at us?” The man said Lestat could feel his anger rising.
Lestat stood and fell into dumb blond foreigner “Pardonnez moi s’il vous plait. Euh je suis amusant une how you say Joke, internal…”
“Oh…” both clients said. Lestat made a show of bowing to apologize and kissed the woman’s hand.
She thought it was classy, he was getting protective. Lestat backed away and sat on a slightly different one of the sofas where he could watch it play out.
They were mostly here for her he picked up from the man’s mind. He’d given his brother a good loan, and his brother had rewarded him out of everyone in the family particularly well. They’d gotten their dream home in the states and were buying all the wardrobe they wanted— cash— but now she wanted to be more cultured. So someone had told her art was the way to do that.
The man wasn’t understanding a word of what louis was saying but if the price was right and his wife liked it he was gonna buy it. They only thing he cared about was her happiness.
He caught himself before he laughed at his own mental joke about suggesting maybe you should buy her a brothel.
What she was thinking, was she didn’t understand the painting and wasn’t even sure if it was good, and was wishing that they could just go get comfortable in their hotel room.
Lestat wondered if Louis was reading them the way he was, learning these things. Or did he think it was unfair. Louis did sometimes set himself strange rules about his powers.
“…You know what… It’s a lot of money, you need time to think and I know you were in country for other reasons, you have my contact information if you decide to move we can make it happen later.” Louis said smiling.
“Yeah… I think we need to think some… it would mean redecorating…” she said.
“Of course.” Louis gently pointed and escorted them to the elevator.
Louis came back after a few minutes removing the glasses. “So… now I am free for the rest of the night.” He said softly.
“Did I ruin the sale?” Lestat asked. “If so I am sorry.”
“No.” Louis said. “I will need to feed soon.”
“As would be expected…” Lestat said softly looking up at louis. “Do you hunt? Or…”
“I usually have things brought to me up here… especially with the threats now… not a problem to have a double order brought.”
“I like hunting.”
“I know you do, but I won’t hunt tonight so a double order would… maximize time inside.”
Lestat smiled but not too smugly. “Well wouldn’t want you to be lonely at dinner.”
After being treated to blood served like wine, Louis dismissed the staff and they sat once more in the living room.
Lestat had resumed the seat he’d held during the client meeting, and was surprised, despite everything, when louis sat on the same sofa. Within arms reach but not immediately next to him.
They talked. Like they had in those early days, before even that night Louis had given in.
Louis stood up, “Well it’s getting late.”
Lestat wasn’t sure what Louis was saying, it was hours til dawn still, but was he being thrown out?
Louis held out a hand, Lestat gently took it, and let Louis pull him to his feet. “Unless you do want to talk all night?” Louis said as their bodies lightly pressed together.
“I was trying to follow your lead after barging into your life again.”
“And here I thought my invitation hadn’t been too subtle.” Louis said softly. He reached up and pulled Lestat in closed for a kiss. “I have a brand new bed that could use some breaking in.” He added smiling.
“You sure.”
“It’s one night, we’ll decide tomorrow when we get there.”
Louis started walking towards the rooms Lestat hadn’t been to, pulling Lestat gently behind him. “Come on… sun won’t wait forever.”
Hours later and now all appetites sated, Louis had fallen asleep, the early pull of dawn taking him down, Lestat lay enjoying his embrace in the blue silk sheets. His fingers tracing the muscles he’d frozen in time forever. Louis had thanked him for the dark gift eventually, but…
Lestat carefully extracted himself from Louis arms, and dressed. He wasn’t ready, it turned out, to make pretend the old times would resume.
In the east there was a thin gold line and it made his skin itch. But with all the swiftness he could Lestat soon was back in the dark and looking up at stars. He drafted a text:
Thank you for letting me barge in once more, whether you were inviting me subtly or not. It was nice to see your life you’ve made. And I’m grateful that you have embraced the gift.
I know my love is a lot, and I am still a lot.
And some day, perhaps, we’ll both be on the same page.
Do not worry for me, I am just… roaming.
He descended til he had signal and sent it, waiting for the Delivered message, before rising back up in to the dark and drifting.