Chapter Text
I do believe our love's in danger
I might as well be loving air
You look at me like I'm a stranger
You look at me like I'm not thereI gaze into your eyes of blue
But their beauty is not for me
You're thinking of someone who's gone
You're dreaming of the one you really love
You're dreaming of the one you really loveThe One You Really Love, The Magnetic Fields
1979
Louis couldn't say when this feeling began. That day, he woke up, and when he took his first step, he staggered—something that never happened, given the natural grace of vampires. He had to take a deep breath—an absurdly human thing he didn't need to do—and plant his feet firmly on the floor again.
The room was empty. Armand should have been awake, wandering around the house, giving endless orders to the staff about things that would never have crossed Louis' mind. Louis changed out of his pajamas into his clothes for the day, looking at himself in the mirror. After sleeping for almost ten years, the world felt slightly different—like walking into your home only to find that all the furniture had been shifted a few inches to the left. Your perspective was off, and every movement felt wrong. Armand was misplaced. In this analogy of the house with rearranged furniture, he was the one piece Louis still couldn't find.
And no, he wasn’t angry or resentful as he had once thought before burying himself in the earth to sleep. He was strangely happy. Happiness didn’t suit Armand, in Louis’ opinion. Suffering fit him perfectly, like the finest garment, but happiness made him… wrinkled. It made him look his real age. The centuries showed in the excited tranquility with which his body moved at any moment of the day. There was an aura of peace around him lately that set Louis’ nerves on edge.
Louis knew that this new side of the monster had nothing to do with him, no matter how much Armand tried to convince him otherwise.
The phone rang, and a shiver ran down Louis' spine at the unexpected sound. But before it could ring again, Armand had already answered.
"How did you get this number?" To a human, his voice wouldn't have been heard from the living room to the bedroom, but Louis heard the barely suppressed laughter in Armand’s tone as if he were on the other side of the phone. Armand didn’t wait for a response before hanging up.
Louis knew that during the years he slept, Armand had other lovers. Hell. Even freshly awakened, Louis had been with others. But that call was extremely unusual. Armand was laughing just at the idea that whoever called had managed to get their home phone number. He wanted to be found by somebody, he was toying with a stranger. And to Louis' surprise, both Armand’s mind and the caller’s were encrypted. Trying to read them felt like crashing into a wall.
Armand was hiding a secret—a secret he was very determined to keep.
Louis straightened up and walked into the living room, finding Armand unable to wipe the smile off his lips, barely restraining himself when Louis greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.
"Who called?" Louis asked, feigning ignorance.
"No one, just a fast food promotion. I already dealt with them," he replied, looking distracted, with little interest in making the lie sound believable.
Louis wondered if Armand had another vampire lover he was secretly talking to. He briefly considered whether it could be a friend, but neither of them had friends. And the glimmer in Armand’s eyes gave him away. He was in love.
Louis picked up a book and sat down to read, but he couldn’t even get through a page. Armand sat across from him with a beautiful leather notebook in his hands. But he wasn’t writing anything—he was doodling, the way humans did while talking on the phone.
That’s when Louis realized Armand was still carrying on a conversation in his head with the caller. It was so engaging that it required his full attention. He sat hunched over the couch like a gargoyle, not even noticing Louis' gaze on him. Had he noticed, he would have already straightened his posture—Louis always scolded him for it.
Louis remembered how he felt when he discovered Lestat was cheating on him with Antoinette, and the feeling he had about Armand’s betrayal didn’t even compare. With Lestat, it had been fiery, like shattered glass. With Armand, it felt more like tedium—just another crack in an already broken crystal.
Louis thought that not even Armand’s infidelity was enough to make him feel anything. He thought that he was truly dead.
He stared at Armand as he remained completely disconnected from reality, absentmindedly playing with the fingers of his left hand while scribbling with his right, tensing and relaxing his toes against the couch cushion. Louis couldn’t see his sketches, but he knew from the movement of his hand that they were nothing but geometric figures drawn with those expensive pencils he had always imported from Italy.
He was completely at ease as he continued his conversation, but his body still moved with contained energy, as if he longed to reach out and touch the person in his mind. His eyes shone like beacons in a way Louis knew had never been directed at him.
Apparently, in Louis' eyes, love suited Armand just as poorly as happiness did. Not because he was ugly—he was obviously a beautiful creature—but Louis realized at that moment that he didn’t want to see him happy or in love. Not with him, not with anyone. He wanted him as unhappy as himself.
"Armand, could you get me a blood bag from the fridge? Please?"
The other vampire looked at him, startled. Not because he’d been caught—Louis knew Armand believed him oblivious to whatever had happened in the years he had been asleep—but startled by the interruption of his conversation.
"Of course, Louis. One moment."
Armand quickly regained his composure. Like a spring no longer being stretched, he sat up properly and left his notebook open on the table before walking—at human speed—to the refrigerator.
Once alone, Louis leaned in slightly to look at the scribbles.
He realized Armand had sketched a rough version of The Lovers of Pompeii.
Louis rolled his eyes.