Work Text:
They were sitting on the roof of the house on Rue Royale. She always felt big up there, looking out over the city below. She’d snuck out and written a few pages in her diary before Louis had climbed up to join her. He didn't say a word and neither did she. And for a while they had just sat there, in the quiet. She intertwined her fingers with his, they were kind but cold.
They looked up at the glimmering stars together, the night dark and blue.
When was the last time she had seen the sun? Not in cinemas or in photographs, not through glass panes or through the moonshine, it must've been decades. Had she ever appreciated the sun, had she ever walked outside and let the rays dance on her skin, felt it prickle and warm her?
Her head fell on his shoulders, she wondered when Louis had seen the sun last, maybe he ran through the streets as a young boy in the summer, with short pants and a linen shirt. Laughing so hard the whole street could hear him. ‘Cause Louis had been small once too. She could even see it sometimes, behind those church windows there was a youthful joy and a childish fear.
Maybe in another life he was like her, forever stunted, unable to live alone. And she was like him, bigger, stronger, and caring for him. For her Louis. Wouldn't that be nice?
She’d hunt for him, bring people back to their house and see him feast on it, spilling the blood everywhere. He'd have big curious eyes and she'd have to teach him the ways. She'd tuck him into his coffin and kiss his little forehead, she'd braid his hair so it wouldn't get matted and she'd sing him lullabies when he couldn't sleep. And in the middle of the day, when all little bats are asleep he would crawl out of his little pistachio-green coffin and come into hers. She'd pretend to sleep and then hug her arms around him.
In another life there would be no white devil, and she could be his big sister.
“What are you thinking about, lil’ one?”
“Nothin’”
Louis smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.
She turned her own back to the sky, the endless sky. Planets and solar systems and other moons and stars, they were both small tonight.
In another life it's just them, maybe they're in France, Paris, where the streetlamps paint the night yellow. They're walking the streets, smiling, their shoes clacking on the cobblestone, she’d have to practice her french. They'd sit in a cafe with the humans and he’d talk about something and smile so handsomely that she'd smile as well.
Her eyes burned a little, she pressed them close and dried away the blood.
Maybe one day the heartache would go away, it should, shouldn't it? Like all things do, all things pass, one day. The leaves brown and fall off the trees, winter takes hold and everything dies, everyone dies. Even the funny ladies at the brothel, and the man who used to give her a mint every time she went to the store, even the birds, even the stars. Everything and everyone had an end. Everyone except for them.
She heard his deep breaths next to her, a little sniffle. His hand in hers was still cold like marble. How can you comfort someone so cold? She took his hand to her face, to her cheek, maybe he could be warmed. She looked back at him, his brows were raised and his eyes shiny, red.
She swallowed and kept holding his hand close to her.
“You are enough, Claudia,” he said, voice shaking, “to me.”
He put his hand on her back and she was pulled into his body, her ear to his heart.
Warm.