Chapter Text
The first time it happened was in Santa Fe.
Lestat sauntered out of the tour bus parked behind that night’s back-alley venue. It wasn’t in a terrible part of town, but it was small and dingy and in desperate need of repair—the exact kind of place The Vampire Lestat had been playing all tour.
It was comfortably cool outside at this point in early Spring and Lestat was glad for the fresh air. As he walked towards the propped-open backstage door, Christine approached, jabbering on about something or another as Lestat entered the building. They wandered down a grimy hallway, Daniel’s grating voice floating towards them from a room ahead and to the right. Lestat followed it and Christine let out an exasperated “are you even listening to me?”
Lestat turned to her and tilted his head to the side. “Do I ever not listen to you, ma chérie?”
Christine muttered a “Jesus Christ” under her breath before ending with, “just don’t fucking pull that shit you did in Plano again, alright?”
Lestat nodded, making a face at her as if to say ‘of course, Christine. Would never dream of it, Christine.’
She sighed before turning around and shouting for Jarda.
Lestat let out a long breath himself, turning the corner into the dressing room where Daniel and Dee were lounging together on a beat up teal sofa.
“There he is,” Daniel teased, splaying his arms out in a mocking welcome. “We were starting to think you might’ve collapsed somewhere.”
Lestat didn’t reply, currently preoccupied with a large floral arrangement sitting on the vanity. It was beautiful—a mixture of happy white Daisies and bright yellow daffodils filling a shallow, terracotta pot painted turquoise.
He couldn’t help but pull a small smile, he did always love flowers.
Turning to the couch, he pointed back to the vanity. “What is this?”
“Looks like flowers,” Daniel snipped back, smirking.
“It was here when we got here,” Dee added, kinder.
Lestat turned back to the arrangement, now noticing a delicate white card perched on a plastic holder behind a particularly large cluster of yellow petals. He picked it up, flipping it open to reveal a small message typed out in generic font:
Monsieur de Lioncourt,
Wishing you all the success on your tour.
With sincerity,
LDPDL
Lestat froze, emotion almost betraying him until he remembered he wasn’t in the room alone.
“Who’s it from?” Daniel leered. When Lestat finally looked at him, he had that familiar glint in his eye, but Lestat wasn’t sure if it was because he had picked up on Lestat’s mixed reaction or if Daniel had looked at the card himself earlier and just wanted to hear Lestat say it.
“No one who matters,” Lestat replied coolly, slipping the card into the back pocket of his jeans. “Christine!”
She appeared in the doorway a few moments later, eyebrows raised.
Lestat shook his hair out and took a step away from the vanity, pointing back at the flowers as if they were something disgusting. “Get this out of my sight.”
Christine was slightly confused, but knew better than to ask. She threw the smallest questioning glance at Daniel and Dee before grabbing the pot and walking out of the room. Everyone was quiet. Lestat sniffed once.
Spinning on his heel, Lestat then looked to the couch, hands on his hips. “My dear Dan, kindly remove yourself. I know you’d prefer to be in the room while I undress, but—”
“Yeah, whatever,” Daniel cut him off, patting Dee’s knee before easing up off the couch. “See you out there, princess.”
Lestat blew him a mocking kiss before turning again to Dee. She sat back and tilted her head, exposing a long line of lovely dark skin. “You want…?”
“No,” Lestat answered quietly. He felt a touch of hunger, but nothing Dee could’ve satisfied in that moment. “I’m fine, thank you.”
Lestat looked to the ground, eyebrows pulled together. He wandered over to the clothing rack set up in the corner, a few different outfits already hanging up for him to pick from. Without looking back at Dee, he said gently, “close the door on your way out, if you would, please?”
Wordless, she did as he asked and once Lestat heard the door click shut, he dropped his head into his hands. He and Louis hadn’t seen each other in months. They had texted here and there in the last year and a half, but so much of the progress they had made after reuniting in New Orleans was blown to bits from the bomb that was Interview with the Vampire. Lestat had actually begun feeling hopeful again, dare he even go so far as saying happy. If it had just been up to Lestat, he and Louis would have already become companions again, maybe in Montreal, maybe somewhere else, but together wherever it was.
Louis had been slow to warm up, still understandably reeling from Daniel’s first bomb about Armand. And Lestat had been patient. As patient as he could’ve been after waiting 80 years for Louis to finally find his way back to him. But they were working on it. Talking. Getting to know each other again. And then the book…
He had been regretful, at least, Louis, though he never actually said the words “I’m sorry.” He continued to reach out, but Lestat responded less and less. And once Lestat had finished reading the book, he stopped responding altogether. Louis still texted every now and then, but it was few and far between. They started out as deflecting: “I didn’t know”, “It was the Talamasca”, “Daniel said…”, then turned defensive: “Well if you hadn’t…”, “You don’t know what it was like for me”, “It’s my story too, you know.” Lestat, admittedly, took the bait on a few of those but the conversations (arguments) never went anywhere meaningful. Eventually, the messages turned melancholy, but Louis still wouldn’t voice any responsibility. “I hate it too”, “It hasn’t been easy for me either”, “Daniel never should have published it.” The last text Louis had sent Lestat was from three weeks ago simply saying, “this isn’t what I wanted.”
Lestat let out a shaky breath and ran his hands through his hair. Well. He wasn’t going to let Louis’ pathetic attempt at pretty bribery ruin his night, was he? There were songs to sing, Beautiful Unwell to seduce, and partying to be had. All before doing it again at the next stop and the next...
***
The second time it happened was in Fresno.
This delivery was bigger, featuring pink and yellow roses and tall stalks of lavender, copious amounts of greenery mixed in and filling out the ceramic vase. The typed out note read:
Monsieur de Lioncourt,
Wishing you the best of luck for tonight’s show.
With kindness,
LDPDL
This one, he also had Christine throw away.
It was three nights later, in Tacoma, when another appeared. Tulips. Red, orange, and yellow, their long leaves poking up elegantly between bright-colored buds. There was another card, typed out again:
Lestat,
Hoping these make you smile on a rainy night.
Wishing you well,
LDPDL
The floral arrangements were at every stop after Washington state. Every venue. Every night. And every night, Lestat demanded they be disposed of immediately. Christine had tried at each turn to get ahead, asking Lestat if he knew who was sending them so she could—in legal terms—tell them to fuck off. She suggested somebody check the dressing rooms first, before Lestat entered, to take care of it before he ever saw anything, but he vehemently refused, going as far as telling Christine he would fire anyone who touched the deliveries without his express permission to do so. Despite always finding them first, always making him angry, and always throwing them away, Lestat did nothing to avoid or stop them. Christine couldn’t understand why, but didn’t push it. She didn’t need Lestat’s wrath turned on her any more than it normally was.
Boise: Morning Glories and Heliotropes—all deep purples and blues, like a midnight sky.
Lestat,
You were always so gifted. I’m so glad the world is now seeing it too.
Fondly,
LDPDL
Salt Lake City: Huge purple Hydrangeas, spilling out over the top of a gorgeous blown-glass vase.
Lestat,
Congratulations, almost halfway through your first tour!
Warmly,
Louis
Denver: An explosion of white—big, elegant Gardenias accented with delicate Honeysuckle and little pom-pom shaped Clover.
Les,
Was asked by a stranger yesterday if I knew of you. Had the privilege of saying “yes.”
Thinking of you,
Louis
Topeka: The most gorgeous and perfect-looking Zinnias Lestat had ever seen, in all shades of pink, orange, and purple, looking like a cloudless prairie sunset.
Les,
I’m proud of you.
Yours,
Louis
Lestat threw that one into the cinder block wall of the dressing room before storming out, shakily crying, “somebody clean this up!”
***
A strange hollowness settled into Lestat’s stomach when the bus rumbled into St. Louis. Daniel had been waiting for this stop, hoping it would trigger some kind of emotional response in him. Lestat knew simply by the way Daniel would “sneakily” glance at him anytime anyone said the city’s name. And Lestat would be lying if he said there hadn’t been some kind of stirring in his heart, a niggling thought or two in his mind.
If he had continued up the Mississippi, all those decades ago, and settled here instead, where would he be? What would he have been doing now? If there had been no 1132, no Claudia...no Louis...
Doesn’t matter, Lestat told himself. What happened has happened and I’m here now.
He refused to give Daniel the pleasure of any sort of acknowledgement of those kinds of thoughts.
They arrived at the venue a little after dark. The band began unpacking, lugging their gear and instruments inside. Lestat followed them slowly, through the door and down a poster-plastered hall, before breaking off to the left as they continued to the stage. There was a sign labeling the dressing room door and he opened it carefully, already bracing himself for what he might find.
It was on the vanity again. This time in a giant, wide-mouth glass vase, a purple satin ribbon wrapped around it and tied in a bow. It was excessive, more so than the others before, with big twirly twigs and long stems of circular green leaves stuck out artfully in all directions. The rest of the vase was stuffed full—a dozen bunches of little blue flowers filling in the space between big blooms of pink ombre petals...
Forget-me-nots and Lilies.
Lestat saw red. He reached the table with vampiric speed, snatching the card from where it was sitting in the middle of it all. It was in an envelope for the first time. He ripped it open, then froze at the sight of Louis’ clean and flowing handwriting:
Mon Cher,
I miss you. Come to me.
With love,
Louis
A slew of different emotions flooded Lestat’s body at once. He wasn’t sure which to focus on, they all hurt and they were all too much. He pressed the back of a trembling hand to his forehead, the other still clutching Louis’ note.
“Christine!” He bellowed.
After a moment, she ran into the room, Daniel on her heels.
Before she could say anything, Lestat turned to her, eyes wet and red, an expression of pure rage on his face. “Phone.” He stuck a hand out.
Christine immediately rummaged around in her bag, mumbling about what she was going to do to whoever was responsible for all this. In the time it took her to pull out Lestat’s phone, Daniel had clocked the flowers and to Lestat’s dismay, began laughing.
“I fuckin’ knew it,” Daniel said, smug. “He’s gotten tired of subtlety and the old cold shoulder, huh?”
Lestat snatched his phone out of Christine’s hand and stormed out of the room before he could kill Daniel. Stomping back down the hallway, he bumped hard into someone’s shoulder, but ignored it, continuing on to the nearest exit door. He threw it open, heavy metal flying and squealing on it’s hinges. Someone on the other side shouted a “hey, what’s your problem, man?” but Lestat didn’t stop. He headed straight for the now-empty tour bus, stepping in and stomping up the stairs to the upper level as he opened his contacts list.
The phone rang three times before the call picked up.
“Hello, Lestat,” Louis answered, much too cheerily for Lestat’s liking.
“C'est quoi ton putain de problème?”
A pause. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
Lestat let out a frustrated breath. “The flowers, Louis.”
“Oh, that.” Lestat could hear the dumbass smirk on Louis’ mouth. “Did you like them?”
A longer pause this time. Lestat wasn’t sure how to answer. He was unbelievably angry, but other feelings were beginning to take the forefront upon hearing Louis’ voice for the first time in almost a year.
“Lestat?”
“Do you really miss me?” He blurted it out before better judgement could stop him.
A few silent seconds passed.
Eventually Louis said, “Of course I do.”
Lestat let out a long sigh before sinking down onto one of the plush velvet couches. He rested an elbow on one of his knees and let his head fall into his hand. “You do?”
“Yes. Don’t ask again or I might change my mind.”
“And…the other part? Is that true too?”
“What other part?” Louis asked genuinely.
“The end.”
“The end?”
“The last bit, the—”
“What do you mean?”
“You know. The…”
“The what, Lestat?”
Lestat let out a frustrated huff. “’With love’, Louis. You signed this one with ‘with love.’”
There was another agonizingly long pause.
“Huh,” Louis started, feigning ignorance. “Did I?”
“Louis, don’t…” Lestat trailed off, tears beginning to prick back up in his eyes. He could feel Louis soften on the other line.
“I did,” Louis said finally, quiet.
“And do you mean it?” Lestat’s heart pounded, his chest flooded with a mix of disbelief, hope, anger, and love all at once.
“I do.”
“Oh.” It was all Lestat could get out.
Louis cleared his throat. “How’re you feelin’ about tonight’s show? Good?”
“Oh,” Lestat said again, crestfallen at the change of subject. “Yes. Good, but—”
“Good,” Louis cut in. “‘Cause, uh...I thought maybe I’d catch it. Your show tonight.”
Lestat popped up, his heart pounding harder. “You’re in Saint-Louis?” He looked around outside the bus windows as if he’d find Louis standing right there in the middle of the street.
“Yeah. Had some business to take care of, their main office is here, so...quite the coincidence, huh?”
All of Lestat’s anger was replaced with warmth, the feeling spreading from his heart straight down to his fingers and toes. “Yes. Quite.”
“I was thinking too,” Louis began, a light, teasing tone in his voice. “Could I maybe get a little sneak peak? Backstage pass before the lights go down?”
A wide smile spread on Lestat’s face and he was glad Louis couldn’t see it. “That’s going to cost you quite the sum, Monsieur du Lac.”
Louis breathed out a laugh, his own heart pounding harder with excitement, unknowingly syncing up with Lestat’s. “I can afford it.”
***
Lestat paced the greenroom, glancing between the door and the flowers that, luckily, hadn’t yet made it to the dumpster by the time Lestat came rushing back in from the bus.
He was stage-ready now, in his outfit for the night—tight, acid wash jeans with combat boots, a plain black sleeveless turtleneck covered by a sheer blood red robe that flowed down past his ankles. Eyeliner was on, glitter was sparkling on his cheekbones, and half of his hair was pulled back, tied with a little black ribbon, showing off two hoops in one ear and a tiny, dangling silver phallus in the other.
He stopped pacing, immediately sensing Louis’ heartbeat entering the building. He could feel him, Louis, walking through the lobby with Daniel, down a hallway to the right, yes. Past restrooms and a grimy manager’s office, getting closer. Louis crossed the threshold of the backstage door, only a few meters away now. Lestat’s heart soared at the sound of Louis’ laughter ringing out from just around the corner before suddenly, he was there in the doorway, right in front of Lestat.
They locked eyes and it was as if the last year and half never happened. As if there was no one else but them. As if all the hurt and unkind words and anger had disappeared, at least for this moment.
Louis smiled first and it was the most beautiful thing Lestat had ever seen. He looked radiant. His hair was styled naturally on top, the sides freshly trimmed close. There was a glinting silver chain around his neck, contrasting against his warm brown skin in a way that made Lestat’s breath hitch. He had on tan loafers, dark grey wide leg trousers, and a tight, patterned blue and green knit top, the color making his eyes sparkle even more than they did on their own.
The eyes I gave him, Lestat thought, distantly.
Wordless, Louis stepped into the room and Lestat immediately twitched his head, slamming and locking the door before Daniel could follow behind him. Louis didn’t stop until he had reached Lestat, opening his arms and pulling him into a tight hug. Lestat melted into it, a pent-up breath escaping his mouth with a long sigh. They both settled their faces against the other’s neck, breathing deep to take in the heady scent of each other’s blood. The blood they shared.
“I’ve missed you too,” Lestat whispered.
Louis squeezed him harder.
They pulled away just enough to look in the other’s eyes, arms still wrapped around each other. Louis raised a hand, placing it gently on Lestat’s cheek, thumb stroking his soft skin as Louis’ eyes roamed around his face.
“Hi,” Louis said.
“Hi,” Lestat replied, throat tight.
“You look good,” Louis smirked, trailing his fingers along Lestat’s jaw.
Clasping his hands together at the small of Louis’ back, Lestat scoffed. “Obviously.”
Louis pursed his lips, forcing back a smile. “How’s it been? The whole rock star thing?”
Lestat made a haughty face and answered, giving a dramatic jump of his eyebrows and widening of his eyes with each word. “Exciting. Inspiring. World-changing.”
“Uh huh. How has it really been?” It was quiet and earnest, Louis looking at Lestat with genuine fondness and concern.
Lestat let out a shaky sigh, suddenly disarmed and feeling the first hint of tears welling in his eyes. “Lonely.”
“On a bus full o’ people? Singin’ for a screaming crowd every night?”
“Without you.” The first tear fell.
Louis was silent for a moment before replying, voice rough. “Yeah. I know how that is.”
Lestat nodded and dropped his head, his face crumpling with emotion. Louis pulled him into another crushing hug, giving Lestat’s hair a series of soft kisses.
“I’m sorry about the book, Lestat,” Louis whispered, clamping a hand onto the back of Lestat’s neck, underneath his hair. “I should’ve told you.”
“Yes, you should have,” Lestat mumbled back. “Though I’m not sure it would have changed much at that point.”
Louis breathed out a small, humorless laugh, pulling back to look in Lestat’s glassy eyes, rimmed with pink tears. He reached up, using his thumbs to wipe away the wet tracks of eyeliner running down Lestat’s cheeks. “Still. I didn’t mean for it to hurt you.”
Lestat looked intently into Louis’ eyes, thinking. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t unkind, just honest. “Didn’t you?”
Louis’ eyebrows pulled together and he let out a long breath, dropping his hands to Lestat’s chest. “I guess at first, yeah. And by the time I changed my mind, it was too late to take any of it back.”
Lestat nodded, biting his lip and sniffling.
Louis looked at him intently, trembling fingers pressing hard into Lestat’s chest. “Lestat, I—”
A banging on the greenroom door cut Louis off, startling them both.
“Hey assholes, show’s about to start,” Daniel yelled from the other side. “Might be nice for the front man to show up.”
They finally broke apart, Louis flushing slightly and looking towards the floor.
“The people need me,” Lestat sighed dramatically, wiping at his face and shrugging as if he had no control over the matter.
Louis smiled. “Yeah, alright, Monsieur Le Rock Star.”
Lestat checked himself in the mirror one last time. There was still a bit of errant eyeliner running down his face and smudged across his bottom eyelids, but Lestat liked the look of it. Liked that it was visible evidence that Louis was here, that they had talked, that they were going to keep talking after this. Even if no one else knew it.
Louis unlocked the door, but reached back before opening it to take Lestat’s hand in his. Lestat stared at their clasped hands for a moment before Louis pulled him along, out of the room (breezing past an exasperated Daniel), and down the hall.
The house lights hadn’t gone fully down yet, the crowd a jumbled murmur of voices except for the occasional whoop or shout calling for them. The rest of the band was lingering in the wings, waiting for their cue to take their places. They let out a collective sigh of relief upon seeing Lestat there and ready to perform, unsure of where he’d been in the last few hours.
Lestat turned to Louis and squeezed his hand. “Christine can show you to your seat. Best in the house, just for you, of course. Or you can watch from here, whatever you would prefer.”
“I’ll stay down here, see the version of The Vampire Lestat no one else gets to.”
Lestat hummed in amusement as the stage lights went down, the crowd roaring in response, as T.C., Larry, Alex, and Salamander all made their way out to their instruments.
“Enjoy the show, mon cher,” Lestat smiled devilishly, turning on his heel to make his grand entrance.
“Les—” Louis reached back out, grabbing his wrist. Lestat turned his head as Louis put a hand on his waist, pulling him in close. Louis’ eyes were wide, looking into Lestat’s with a deep mix of emotions in them. His gaze flicked quickly to Lestat’s mouth and Lestat’s heart rate jumped with excitement. Louis felt it and smiled, flashing beautiful white teeth, before leaning in and pressing their lips together.
Lestat’s chest burst with happiness. He was still upset with Louis, he truly was, and there was a lot they still needed to work through, but they’d figure it out. Even if it took years, a lifetime, a century, they’d figure it out. They always had. And they had eternity to do it, didn’t they?
Lestat was vaguely aware of Louis pulling away from him (and much too soon, in his opinion), but it was from an odd angle and it took Louis’ firm hands pushing down on Lestat’s shoulders for him to realize he had floated a few inches off the floor.
Fluttering his eyes open, Lestat was met with Louis’ smiling face. “Fuckin’ show off...”
Lestat laughed openly, leaning in for another quick peck before strutting away as a spotlight flashed on stage. He gave Louis one last look and a wink before squaring his shoulders and walking out to the screaming crowd.