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“We should head back soon," Louis whispered into the still night. "It's gettin' early."
Lestat nodded, but made no move to stand, lest he break the spell they had surely been under for the last hour. There he and Louis were—sitting on a park bench, speaking together earnestly, just as they had on so many other nights like this, over a century ago. If Lestat closed his eyes, he could almost smell the blooming Magnolias of Jackson Square.
It had been an impossible night and Lestat felt wholly wrung out and ruined. The sea of emotions currently swimming about in his head was something he knew he'd need to address sometime, but not right now. Not in the sliver of night they still had left together. Not when the wound was so freshly reopened and gaping. He buried the pain, but not too deep. It'd still be there for him, shallow and easy to reach, when he had the heart and courage to look at it again.
Louis finally stood, pulling his hand away from where his and Lestat's pinkies were interlocked. It shouldn't have felt like much, but the loss was immediate and Lestat's chest ached. He rose, staying close to Louis, and whirled his coat around to rest heavily across his shoulders.
They walked wordlessly back to Lestat's flat, following the dark, tree-lined path, as the eastern sky slowly began to lighten. Lestat let out a long breath, exhaling more shakily than he expected. Louis turned his head at the sound of it, but didn't say anything, simply reached down to lace their fingers together.
Lestat looked wide-eyed at their hands, then up to Louis' face. Had they ever done this in public before? Louis was peeking at Lestat from the corner of his eyes, almost shy, with a tiny smile on his lips. Lestat squeezed his hand and smiled back.
The chatter and festivity that had pulsed through Lestat's street in the early evening was long gone. All that met them now was a chill breeze that played with the ends of Lestat's hair and sent dry leaves skittering down the sidewalk. Louis suppressed a yawn as they stepped up Lestat's front stairs. After retrieving the key from it's hiding place, Lestat unlocked the door and removed the trick-or-treater's sign, pulling Louis around awkwardly so as to not part hands. Louis grabbed the empty candy bowl with a hidden grin before following Lestat inside.
Once the door was shut and relocked, Louis gently tried to unclasp his hand from Lestat's. He automatically gripped harder in response, prompting Louis to give him an imploring look.
"I'm not goin' anywhere," Louis said, raising their hands to just barely brush his lips against Lestat's knuckles. "Just need to take my coat off."
Lestat let out an embarrassed laugh. "Oui, sorry. I'm sorry." He finally let go of Louis' hand and oh, the loss was so much worse than the pinkies. He avoided eye contact, scanning the wide room instead.
Furniture was still pushed aside, sheet music scattered, books fallen over, glassware shattered, and of course—the broken ring of salt, poured out on the hardwood floor, staring at them like one giant, monstrous eyeball.
"Come on." Lestat startled at the sound of Louis' voice and the hand placed on the small of his back. "We can clean this up tomorrow."
Lestat nodded.
We. Tomorrow.
Louis pushed him gently through the room towards the back hallway.
"The lights," Lestat mumbled, distracted.
"Oh," Louis turned, glancing at the lamps arranged around the room. "I got it."
He gave Lestat's back a few reassuring rubs before turning, stepping carefully around the debris on the floor to switch off each one, the last plunging the room into a heavy darkness.
Making his way back to Lestat's side, Louis noticed him staring at one spot in the middle of the salt circle. Louis followed his gaze to Claudia's yellow dress.
"We should burn it," Lestat whispered, looking to Louis with wet eyes.
"What? No."
"And the diaries." Lestat stared at him, pained, but resolute. "She told us to, Louis."
Louis looked back to it—the soiled, empty, crumpled-up dress. "We don't—I mean, she..." Lestat gently touched Louis' wrist, his contestation fading away. Working his jaw and pursing his lips, Louis sniffed and slowly nodded, unable to meet Lestat's eyes.
"Come," Lestat pulled at Louis' sleeve. "For now, let's just try to get some sleep, hm?"
Louis followed Lestat around the corner and down the hall but hesitated when they approached the guestroom door. He looked to Lestat and opened his mouth to speak, but words failed to form. They stared at each other for a long, charged moment, feelings of something sparking up between them.
Eventually, Louis cleared his throat. "Goodnight, Lestat."
Lestat gave him a small smile, mouth dry. "Goodnight, Louis."
Regretfully pulling his gaze away, Louis nodded to himself and cracked open the door to slip inside. Lestat stood there alone for a moment before letting out a long breath and continuing down the hall to his coffin room. He shut the door with a soft click and began to dress for bed, tossing the night's clothes unceremoniously onto a chaise in the corner of the room. He untied his hair, shaking it loose, and pulled on a thin black t-shirt and soft grey pants before opening the coffin and climbing inside. Settling into the plush interior, Lestat pulled the lid shut and laid in silence.
He wasn't sure they would ever truly find closure with Claudia. Certainly not peace. They didn't deserve it and part of Lestat didn't want it. We leave the damage so we never forget the damage. They had condemned her to decades of pain and suffering and knowing now that she was still restless and alone, without her companion even in the after-afterlife, shattered Lestat's already broken heart. What could be worse than that? Cursed with eternal loneliness. That was truly Hell and they had put her there. The pain threatened to exhume itself out of Lestat's chest, dark and clawing, but he tamped it down, grimacing into the darkness. No more tonight. Please.
He forced his thoughts towards Louis and the words spoken quietly in the park earlier. They echoed in Lestat's head.
"If it was just the two of us again..."
Oh, how Lestat longed for that. There was love and genuine happy memories from their time spent together in New Orleans, but Lestat had also gotten so much so very, very wrong. Horribly, catastrophically wrong. Time felt different to an immortal being, but the pain of regret didn't. If he ever got the chance to do it again, to be true companions with Louis again...
In the decades since Paris, Lestat had let himself fantasize about the two of them finding their way back to each other. It felt safe to do so at the time, when Louis was still under false pretenses and Armand's close eye. But after Louis showed up in New Orleans, wet, weary, and real, Lestat wasn't sure what to expect between them. He always ached for Louis and it hurt more when he was flesh-and-blood in front of him instead of just a handsome spectre conjured up on dark, lonely nights. Real Louis could say no. Real Louis could leave.
But then they began rebuilding. Reconnecting. Trying.
"...who else is gon' have us?"
Lestat closed his eyes, readjusting his head on the pillow, and listened for Louis' heartbeat in the other room. It was there. Strong and sure, drumming in time with Lestat's. The rhythmic beating of Louis' heart, both human and immortal, was the most transcendent piece of music Lestat had ever heard in his long life.
"Couple folding chairs. Plant some flower boxes..."
A warm well of tears pricked up in Lestat's eyes. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyelids and let out a trembling breath. His entire being yearned for Louis. Always. Still. It was never-ending. They were two halves of the same whole, forced apart by mistakes and heartache and hurt, but never truly separate. Never truly untethered. Lestat had hardly allowed space for himself to hope, but tonight...
"Could be nice."
The sun was peeking over the horizon now, a ghost of a ray slipping into the room just above one of the windowpanes, but Lestat still threw open the lid of his coffin and leapt out of it. He bounded to the bedroom door and tore it open only to find Louis already on the other side, hand outstretched in midair where the doorknob had been a moment ago.
"Oh," Lestat breathed. "Hello."
"I—uh," Louis stammered, flushing nearly as dark as his ruby silk pajamas. "I...didn't want to be alone. If that's okay...with you?" He said it so quietly, Lestat almost thought he misheard.
"Oh," Lestat repeated, heart hammering.
Louis shifted on his feet, rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. "Can I...?" He looked pointedly from Lestat's coffin to his eyes.
Nodding, Lestat stepped aside, letting Louis brush closely past him through the doorway. Mind hazy with optimistic trepidation, Lestat shut the door again and turned, watching as Louis tentatively eased down into the coffin, lying on his back, tucked up tightly against the left wall. Lestat followed, carefully stepping over Louis' legs before settling down on his side to face him. The low beam of sunlight glowing though the eastern window slowly faded as Lestat lowered the coffin lid, enveloping them in blackness.
Lestat tucked his hands up under his cheek and stared at Louis. He couldn't possibly count the number of times he had imagined this over the last 80 years—dreamt it—he and Louis, wrapped up in each other, sleeping peacefully together in coffin again. Lestat's violet stare trailed down Louis' profile, across his soft brows and sweeping eyelashes. Along the gorgeous angle of his nose and the curve of his full lips. Following the sharp turn of his jaw and perfectly cleft chin, forever frozen in the lovely state of a day-old shave. Lestat didn't need to stare, he had every centimetre of Louis' body locked away in his mind, worshipfully sculpted there as if he was born of marble. Still, Lestat couldn't help but look. Not when Louis was presently so close to him. And so painfully stunning.
Lestat's gaze fell to his heaving chest. "Relax, Louis," he whispered.
Louis glanced at him anxiously, eyebrows pulled together, and shook his head. "Sorry. Like I said, I don't sleep in coffins much anymore."
Lestat cleared his throat. "You and Lem never—"
Louis suppressed a smile. "Don't. Don't call him that."
"Apologies," Lestat said, unapologetically. "Do you even own—?"
"Remember the first time we shared?" Louis asked, rolling over to face Lestat, tucking his hands up under his cheek as well.
Lestat hummed. "You were hesitant then as well, as I recall."
"Could you blame me?"
"No. You were in quite the state."
"You mean burnt to a crisp?"
"Covered in milk."
Louis snorted out a laugh. "Why didn't you tell me about the sunlight?"
"I believe I did, mon ami, you simply did not care to listen."
"Hm. Don't know 'bout that."
"Go to sleep, Louis," Lestat rolled his eyes and nudged one of Louis' knees with his own. "We've had a very long night."
Louis smiled tiredly. "Well, there's one thing you're right about."
Lestat scoffed and settled further into the long, singular pillow they were sharing. He was exhausted, but fought to keep his eyes open, wanting so badly to stay in this moment forever. Louis stared back at him, eyes roaming around Lestat's face as if he was thinking the same thing.
They were silent, the tight space between them thick with unspoken words. Slowly, Louis slid a hand out from under his head and hesitantly reached over, ghosting his fingers along the wave of golden hair framing the side of Lestat's face. Lestat froze. Louis looked to his shimmering eyes and paused, giving him a moment to object or pull away. When he didn't, Louis gently ran the back of his knuckles down Lestat's cheek. They both let out a sigh and Louis' cool fingertips traced the shape of Lestat's eyebrow and cheekbone, trailing down to the scar on the side of his mouth, before settling gently against his soft lips.
Lestat's breath hitched, eyelashes fluttering. Louis stared at his mouth, green eyes impossibly bright in the darkness, before his gaze shifted, locking into Lestat's stare. Overwhelmed, Lestat finally allowed his eyes to close. He puckered his lips, still under Louis' touch, to lightly kiss his fingertips.
Louis' trembling inhale filled the air between them. He slid his hand around to cup the side of Lestat's face, the pad of his thumb dragging languidly along the full length of Lestat's bottom lip. When he felt Louis' body shift, Lestat finally blinked his eyes open. Their faces were impossibly close, shaky breaths tumbling out against each other's mouths. Lestat's hand found the front of Louis' shirt and pawed at it, trying to steady himself, trying to stay present. Louis bent his head a fraction, resting their foreheads together, and slid the hand on Lestat's cheek further back to run slowly through his hair. Lestat practically purred, melting into Louis' touch as he gripped tighter at the fabric between them.
It was pure magnetism, whatever force it was that joined them across time and space, through every awful, terrible version of themselves. Lestat never fully understood it, always explained it away as their maker/fledgling bond, but what he and Louis shared was entirely something else. It was intoxicating, as it always was, and they were both quickly falling back into the abyss, losing themselves in it, but finding the other already there waiting.
Louis gave the back of Lestat's head a few glorious, slow scratches before cradling his jaw. Their stares were locked together, intense and searching, eyes wide with pure emotion. A prickly fire licked up Lestat's back, the hairs on his neck standing up, and every surface of his skin felt like it was buzzing. The air between them crackled with unseen electricity, anticipation building until it was too much to bear, and they both pressed forward, mouths finally meeting for the first time in a lifetime.
Each drew in deep breaths through their noses, gasping with pleasured surprise as much as they could without breaking contact. Heat bloomed all through Lestat's body, heart thumping wildly in his chest. Louis relaxed his mouth and Lestat followed, their lips working gingerly against each other. It was exploratory. New, yet oh so familiar.
After a few long, wondrous seconds, Louis pulled away, nuzzling his nose against Lestat's. They breathed heavily against each other as Lestat slid his hand up under Louis' shirt, needing just to feel him, to ground himself in reality, for he would surely float away if he didn't. He wrapped his arm tightly around Louis' middle, dragging him closer until they were practically flush against each other, chest to toes. Louis buried his hand in Lestat's hair and dipped his head, settling his face into the crook of Lestat's neck, breathing deep. Louis' back trembled suddenly, his mouth working lightly against Lestat's skin, and it took Lestat a moment to realize he was crying.
"Louis?" Lestat whispered, rubbing circles along the velvet skin of Louis' back.
"I'm sorry," Louis mumbled, the hand not wrapped up in Lestat's hair moving to wipe at his cheeks as best it could.
Lestat's stomach dropped, his pulse quickening. "What for?"
Pulling back enough to be able to look into Lestat's eyes, Louis replied, "I'm sorry I never said it. I felt it. Knew it the whole time. But could never..."
Lestat stared intently at him, chest heaving.
"I just..." Louis' face screwed up with emotion, but he didn't drop Lestat's gaze. "Paul was the last person I...before he—and then Arm—but it wasn't like—"
"Louis, what—?"
Louis closed his eyes for a moment, a single tear slipping out and trailing down his perfect face. When he blinked his eyes back open, they unwaveringly met Lestat's stare, bright and blazing.
"I love you, Lestat."
He paused, letting the words slowly fill the space between them and sink into both their hearts. When he spoke again, it was shaky. "Always have. Never stopped, even when..." he trailed off, swallowing hard. "I don't know what things are gonna look like between us, but I just...need you to know that." Louis smiled at him, pained and unsure. "I love you."
Louis could sense it coming just before it happened—the sparkling, euphoric, full-body laugh that immediately erupted out of Lestat.
"Louis!" He cried, big red tears suddenly rolling down his cheeks. Lestat clamped his hand against the side of Louis' neck and peppered quick kisses all over this face between awestruck babbles. "Louis, mon amour, l'amour de ma vie. Je t'aime aussi, je t'aime de tout mon être. Thank you for telling me, mon cœur. Thank you."
"Alright," Louis breathed out a laugh, shy and relieved. "Enough o' that."
Lestat pulled back, positively beaming at him, eyes roaming around Louis' face as if he suddenly looked brand new. "I love you, Louis."
Louis pressed his lips together, fighting a smile. "I love you too. Now can we please go to sleep? Sun's full out by now."
Leaning forward, Lestat placed a long, lingering kiss on Louis' forehead. He nudged their faces together, still sniffling with emotion. "How am I supposed to sleep now while my heart is simply soaring?"
Louis let himself smile fully now and bumped his nose against Lestat's cheek. "Try."
Lestat wrapped his arm around Louis' waist and hugged him close, their legs tangling together. "Sleep well, chéri, and dream sweet."
Louis settled comfortably into the pillow, reverently breathing in Lestat's warm and familiar scent. He let his eyes slide shut. "You too, mon cher."