Chapter Text
When Louis gave Daniel an interview in 1971 it led to the end of Armand’s relationship with Daniel and the formal beginning of his relationship with Louis. When Louis gave Daniel an interview in 2021 it led to the end of Louis’ relationship with Armand. History never repeated, but it did rhyme.
Louis should have seen it coming really. Not just because of Daniel’s presence, but dragging up every old wound that scarred his psyche was a recipe for disaster in an already fragile relationship.
Louis told Armand good-bye and left Dubai without any intention of ever returning. Armand seemed worried about Louis’ physical safety, but didn’t seem particularly put out at losing his lover. Armand didn’t want to end their relationship, but he didn’t fight Louis’ decision. Didn’t even argue it.
So Louis took a small percentage of Armand’s fortune as a vampiric alimony and he left to start a new life. For it would have to be a new life. He knew no vampires that weren’t employees and sycophants of Armand and he knew no humans that didn’t serve him in Dubai.
Lestat and Daniel were the only exceptions to that and Louis had no interest in San Francisco or Paris where he assumed Lestat to be. So he went to New York City. Not for any particular reason. He’d spent time there decades ago, but wasn’t hugely familiar with even the geography of the city.
He rented a luxury hotel room for a month or so just to see how he liked the place. He did touristy things like wander the museums that had late hours. He sat and drank in a few different jazz bars, but had yet to find one that felt authentic. He saw the sights that lit up at night and enjoyed them despite feeling lonelier than he had in decades.
Louis went to the ballet and to the opera and found he was still able to enjoy them from an emotional distance.
It took Louis a couple weeks to decide to see a Broadway show simply because they weren’t something he’d ever given much thought toward. He was vaguely aware of musical staples like Cats and The Lion King, but that was as closely as he’d ever considered the matter. He pulled out his tablet and searched for all the shows playing now just to see if any of them might cure his boredom.
At the top of the website they advertised a Tony-winning musical he’d never heard of. Star-crossed lovers or some nonsense that probably wouldn’t have interested Louis even if he wasn’t newly single.
Tickets available NOW: Les Lioncourt and Emmy Benton LIVE
Louis almost passed out.
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Louis pored over every bit of promotional material he could find. He memorized Les Lioncourt’s Playbill profile. And he still wasn’t certain it was him.
The photos all showed a man who favored Lestat but was hardly his twin. His hair was cut short which was something Louis couldn’t imagine the vampire ever doing to himself. The cut hair was darker than Louis had ever seen it, but that could just be a product of the length. He had a full beard that was dark blonde tinged with red. His blue eyes sparkled, but were not supernaturally bright.
Louis couldn’t find interviews with him or a social media presence save dozens of fan-run pages. He was popular and prolific in musical theater and Louis still couldn’t tell if it was him.
It had to be him.
Louis paid through the nose for front row tickets the next night, suspiciously noting that it was the alternate who took the matinee show.
This could all be coincidence. But Louis knew it wasn’t. If he wanted to reconcile with Lestat, whatever that looked like, he could do it tomorrow night.
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The moment Lestat took the stage Louis knew it was him. His first urge was to flee the theater altogether. The logical part of Louis reminded himself that the stage lights were so bright that Lestat had no chance of seeing him in the crowd. But in seconds Lestat took his solo in the ensemble opening and Louis was as entranced with the vampire as he’d ever been.
When the show was over Louis joined the crowd in their standing ovation and he meant every bit of applause from his very soul. Lestat was a triumph on the stage. Louis shouldn’t be surprised.
But what did surprise him was the shyly pleased look on the man’s face as he took his bows. Lestat appeared happy with the reception, but humble under the weight of the praise. He quickly stepped aside for his co-star and encouraged the crowd to turn their attention to her.
It wasn’t like Lestat to share the spotlight.
Louis slipped out in the hopes that Lestat would greet fans at the stage door like the endless fan pages claimed he would. He was shocked to see there was already a crowd, large enough to be made up of people who hadn’t even seen the show. Louis hung back up the street to wait.
Multiple cast members emerged and shortly after Lestat materialized as well. Somehow it was different seeing him like this, even from a distance, than seeing him on stage.
Lestat was real. He was here. And he was posing for selfies with teenagers and tourists. He’d taken out the contact lenses that dulled his eyes and he smiled with fangs retracted.
Slowly the crowd began to peter out as adoring fans got photographs and autographs from the stars of the show. There was no denying that Lestat was in his element here at the stage door every bit as much as he was on stage. The performance aspect was still there. He was being lavished in attention and compliments.
Lestat looked tired, but happy.
Louis steeled himself, took a deep breath, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked forward.
“Hello,” Lestat greeted without looking up. “Did you enjoy the show?”
He looked up then and Louis couldn’t help the slight hitch in his breath at meeting those inhuman blue eyes for the first time in nearly a century. Louis gave him a small smile, but extended his fangs as the slightest threat. He came here in peace, but he recognized Lestat’s potential ire.
Lestat’s eyes widened and he let out the slightest breath of shock. “Are-” He glanced around at the small crowd that remained. “Are you free?” he asked politely. “Can you give me a few more minutes?”
Louis nodded in agreement. “I’m at the Montague,” he told him in a low voice.
Lestat nodded in vaguely dazed understanding. “Twenty-thirty minutes max.”
Louis stepped back again. “It was a wonderful show.”
“Thank you.” Lestat gave him a hopeful smile and turned back to his fans.
Louis walked toward the hotel feeling like he was floating on air. Perhaps Lestat hadn’t forgiven him, but he was clearly willing to talk to him. To give him a chance. Given that Louis certainly hadn’t forgiven Lestat either it was a decent place to start.
Could they really move on from all this? Start over? Be friends or lovers again? It seemed impossible, but…Louis wanted to try.
Louis had spent the first forty years or so of his life living a bit too freely by the standards of the time. By the standards of any time in some ways. Queer and agnostic didn’t mean much any more but it sure did then. Money laundering, politician bribing, woman-exploiting pimp. Well that still wasn’t good. And when you added the murdering on top of that…
When he lost Claudia and joined Armand, Louis overcorrected. He never killed. He never smoked. He barely drank. He rarely fucked. He never even yelled. The obsessive self-discipline had simply left life unenjoyable. The guilt was gone, but the happiness was as well.
Morally speaking, Louis knew he should sprint in the opposite direction of Lestat de Lioncourt. But, for some ungodly reason, Louis’ heart told him ‘it might be fun.’ And denying himself a bit of morally questionable fun is what had made him so miserable for so long.
Louis was sat in a relatively quiet corner booth of the Hotel Montague’s bar when Lestat walked in only fifteen minutes later. The blonde looked around and then hurried over with a smile on his face.
“Martini, filthy,” Lestat ordered from the waiter before turning back to Louis.
Louis opened his mouth to speak, but as usual Lestat got there first.
The older vampire stuck out a hand. “Lestat de Lioncourt,” he greeted with a grin.
Louis blinked. He hesitated a beat too long, but quickly stuck out his hand to shake. “Louis de Pointe du Lac,” he offered in return. So they were really starting fresh.
Lestat laughed brightly and sat back, shaking his head. “I’ve never met another vampire.”
“What?” Louis asked weakly.
“I have so many questions,” Lestat continued animatedly. “How old are you? Do you know other vampires?”
Louis stared a moment before shaking his head. “No, stop. Don’t-um- I don’t want to start this fresh.”
Lestat tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“Les…” Louis chastised quietly.
Lestat’s excited expression dropped into one of wonder. “Do you know me?”
“Do I-” Louis gasped sharply. “Do I know you?”
Lestat frowned. “I’m sorry?” he apologized gently. “I-uh-don’t have a lot of memories before a certain point.”
Louis’ throat felt like it had closed up. When did those memories stop? Had Louis and Claudia somehow destroyed Lestat’s brain with their poisoning? Had Lestat wandered blind since 1936? “We-” Louis sucked in a deep breath. “We were lovers for nearly thirty years,” he croaked. “We had a child together.” He hurriedly wiped a bloody tear before it could fall.
Lestat sat back against the booth with a heavy thump. “Oh…you have the wrong man. I’m sorry.” The apology was genuine this time instead of mostly questioning. He truly felt bad for Louis.
Louis dropped his head into his hands and took a minute to compose himself. When he looked up Lestat had fixed upon him the softest expression Louis had ever seen on that chiseled face. “I don’t have the wrong man,” he asserted quietly.
“You do though,” Lestat shrugged. He snatched up his previously untouched drink and downed half of it in several large gulps.
“You’re identical and my lover’s name was Lestat de Lioncourt,” Louis grit out through clenched teeth. “How do you explain that?”
Lestat shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t his real name? Maybe it’s not my real name. I told you I’m a little fuzzy on the details.”
Louis reached forward and took Lestat’s hand in his. “You’ve been fuzzy since our daughter tried to kill you in 1936,” he told him firmly.
Lestat stared at their joined hands. He neither pulled back nor gripped Louis in return. “Sorry, but my memory went dark in the eighties.”
Louis shook his head. “The eighties? What happened in the eighties?” What had he missed?
Lestat laughed self-deprecatingly and stared at their hands. “Uh- a lot of heroin?” He shrugged and tried to take back his hand.
Louis didn’t let him. “It doesn’t matter how it happened.” Or rather they’d have that fight later. “But if you can’t remember before the eighties then you’re obviously my Lestat.” Lestat attempted to tug his hand away again, but Louis refused. He knew very well that Lestat was strong enough to break Louis’ grip if he truly wanted to.
“I’m telling you I’m not,” Lestat stated firmly, looking him in the eye now.
“And how could you possibly know that if you can’t remember?” Louis huffed, his frustration at the absurdity of the situation getting the better of him.
Lestat gave him another sardonic grin and finally freed his hand. “Because I’m straight.”
Louis’ brain simply didn’t compute the sentence for a long time. He finally closed his eyes and considered that. This wasn’t drug-induced. Arsenic or otherwise. This wasn’t memory loss. Someone had tampered with Lestat’s head.
The same way Armand altered Daniel fifty years ago.
Louis looked up again, certain that the horror was plain to see in his expression.
Lestat cringed and stood. He took out his wallet and threw a few bills on the table. “I’m sorry about the confusion. And I’m guessing you’re not in any mood to answer my questions, so…”
This polite and understanding, but utterly uncharacteristic version of Lestat was not someone Louis could identify with.
“Wait!” Louis instructed.
Lestat paused, a wary look on his face.
“Come up to my room…” Louis suggested.
Lestat’s eyes went wide for a moment and he laughed softly. “I just told you I’m straight…”
“No, for…privacy reasons,” Louis insisted, glancing around.
“Oh,” Lestat looked around as well as if just cognizant they might be overheard. “Alright.”