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Summary
“I want to feel… safe,” Armand said, forcing it out from underneath the layers of crushing embarrassment and shame. “I want there to be nothing else but you. Just me and my maker, who will guide me, teach me. Take care of me.”
“Take care of you,” Louis repeated. “Completely? You wanna be my fledgling, huh?”
Armand didn’t really think anyone could ever take care of him completely. It was slightly soothing that Louis was willing to try, even if their acting would likely only go as far as sharing blood and Armand calling him his maker; it was sweeter than their usual games, oddly vulnerable in a different way.
“...Yes,” Armand bowed his head. “I want there to be only you.”
“Just me and you?”
“No,” he said. “Just you.”