Chapter Text
“'Cause I was never told that I wasn't gonna get
The things I want the most
And people always say, "If it hasn't happened yet
Then maybe you should go" ”
The rockstar staggers on the stage as he sings the pre-chorus. It’s not visible to the mundane eyes, though the emerald eyes of the dark skinned vampire immediately notices the movement. A deep frown covers his handsome face, and he shifts in his place among the sea of electrified bodies.
The Vampire Lestat, the most famous rock band in recent and not so recent history, is at the last leg of their Bloody Veil World Tour. Currently their front man, song writer, composer, pianist and founder Lestat de Lioncourt is delivering the last song. And he is a mess.
“ Come get me out
Come get me out
Come get me out
Come get me out”
He croons the bridge, voice breaking near the end. Louis’ heart leaps to his throat because that never happened before. Even when his vocal cords were damaged from having Louis’ cock down his throat for too long, he would still be able to go downstairs and perform the most silly repertoire for their Claudia.
Louis’ heart breaks for him. His Lestat -because no matter what their official relationship status is, he will alway be Louis’- looks exhausted, beaten down, dim. And that scares Louis. Lestat could be furious, cruel, passionate, bratty, loving, vulnerable, joyful but not dim. Never dim. Whatever he’s feeling he always manages to bring some kind of a light to it. He’s always illuminated by non-existent stage lights, as if the whole world is just a stage for him to create and play out his stories.
Louis had only seen that light dim a couple of times in his long and cumbersome immortal life. Some he caused, some he witnessed.
“Come get me out of California
No leaves are brown
I miss the seasons in NOLA
My dying town
Thought I'd be cool in California
I'd make you proud
To think I almost had it going
But I let you down”
As the heart-wrenching song comes to an end, Louis uses his vamp speed to get himself into Lestat’s personal dressing room. He can hear the deafening applause, erratic heartbeats of Lestat’s band mates, sloshing of Lestat’s delicious blood in his delicate veins.
He waits for them to say their thanks and goodbyes to their devoted fans and as he waits, Louis reminisces about the first and only time he stood in Lestat’s dressing room. Exactly six months ago. Minutes before their first concert. He had already read and reread and memorized his devastating book, The Vampire Lestat.
Lestat was about to go on the stage, embark on a new, thrilling and chilling tale. Afraid of Lestat being the target of vengeful immortals and Talamasca, Louis had begged and pleaded with him to stop this nonsense. He remembers gripping Lestat’s beautiful head, emerald eyes gazing deep into violet-blues, asking for him to think this through. But Lestat was Lestat and this was the perfect opportunity for him to finally receive all the recognition, adoration and closure he needed. And when he put his mind to something, he would get it. So he had returned Louis’ pleas with his own, asking him to not cage him, to trust him, to support him.
How could Louis look into those iridescent, weepy eyes and hold that shaky body in his arms and refuse him? Of course, he had relented. And sent Lestat to that stage with a chaste kiss and a long awaited I love you .
Only to refuse him when he asked to be companions again.
Louis, even though he was the king of lying to himself, could admit that it was not his best moment. He’d been quite disappointed in himself when he couldn’t muster up the courage to sweep Lestat into a crushing embrace and call him his husband again. He had asked for time, as if all the agonizing decades they spent apart were not enough, Louis had asked for time.
And his beautiful, devoted Lestat had respected that. Always the hopeful against all the despondency. But time could chip away at hope, could crush even the strongest will and even the most resilient vampire could fall into despair. This night is proof of that.
Louis can’t keep doing this to Lestat, he needs to put an end to their meaningless separation. Needs to save the love of his life from this abeyance.
The thin door of the dressing room opens with a creak and the man, the myth, the legend himself walks into his own dressing room with hesitant steps. Oh, my love, what have I done to you? thinks Louis.
“Hello, Lestat.” says Louis, a small but genuine smile on his lips.
“Hello, Louis.” replies Lestat, eyes guarded but relieved.
He says nothing more. Hell must be frozen over, Lestat de Lioncourt is silent as the dead, which is yeah… not the best analogy that comes to Louis’ mind. Be all the beautiful things that you are, be them without apology. Louis takes a deep breath he doesn’t need.
“You were amazing up there. Fans went wild for you and your band.” Simple and not so intimate yet a sufficient flattery and a decent start.
Lestat huffs out a laugh, doesn’t reach his eyes though. “Don't let Tough Cookie hear you say that. She despises being referred to as ‘my band’.”
“Noted.” Louis’ tone is amused, light. He loves that Lestat has kind-of-friends now, he deserves it. He takes a couple of steps toward Lestat, who seems like he is using all his strength to not run away or into Louis’ arms. Louis wishes he did the second, yes, definitely the second. “Why are you here, Louis?”
“I wanted to watch you perform, you always looked so gorgeous under stage lights.” Not the main reason why he’s here but it’s an honest answer.
Lestat nearly rolls his eyes but they feel itchy with unshed tears so he doesn’t. “I am not sure if that’s an appropriate thing to say to your friend.”
“We both know you are much more than that, Lestat.” He is one more step closer now.
“Do we know that? Do I ?” Lestat rolls his eyes now, falling tears be damned. His cruel saint has seen him in worse conditions than that anyway.
“You should. I told you I love you. Not just loved, love. Aorist tense. Past, present and future, because I always will.” There it is, the real reason.
Lestat’s glitter and eyeshadow covered face crumbles, big bloody tears start falling rapidly. “Louis, what- what are you trying to do?”
Louis finally closes the distance between and takes Lestat in his arms. “I’m trying to thank you for giving me time. I’m trying to ask you, if it’s not too late, could we give another chance to us? I’m trying to ask if we can try again, as best friends and lovers and companions ?”
Lestat wails. Honest to God, gutural, heart wrenching wail. It’s a pitiful, raw sound. Fills the cramped dressing room and the little space between them, breaks Louis’ heart and makes his eyesight go blurry with red tinged tears.
“Louis.” Lestat mutters between sobs, “Louis.” he says like a prayer.
Louis wipes his tears with gentle touches, remembers a distant past where Lestat did the same for him in that beautiful house in Rue Royale, and tuts, “C’mon now baby, I didn’t say those things to make you cry. I never wish to see you cry again.” He presses a feather light kiss to his clammy forehead, dried blood-sweat covers his lips and invades his senses for a moment.
“So what do you say, Lestat? Do you want me back, do you want to be mine again?” His immortal, dead heart almost beats out of his chest which doesn’t make sense at all, being this nervous. But it’s his eternal lover, standing in front of him shaking and crying but still looking celestial. And he might refuse Louis.
In all their time together, from the courting days where they used to just walk and talk in the streets of New Orleans, to the day he watched him beg to be put in his coffin as Claudia slashed his throat, Louis has never doubted his feelings for him.
But a century is a long time. And Louis had not made it easy for him to hold onto that love. He left him to rot in that dungeon, left with Armand, left him to believe that he was a villain in the story of Louis’ life.
He’s not sure now. And not knowing if his feelings are returned, if this man he loves passionately wants him in return, is a terrible feeling. And Louis is suddenly hit with the nauseating realization of what he had done to Lestat by withholding all those years.
Sure, his erratic behaviour, mood swings, cryptic secrets and fits of anger hadn’t helped Louis to voice his feelings but, well… He knows what he didn’t back then. Knows why he held back from telling his past, why he got so angry whenever Louis or Claudia asked about the other vampires, why he became mean and vicious when faced with the threat of Louis leaving him. And Louis is willing to be the brave one now. Willing to put his heart in Lestat’s hands and hope that he doesn’t crush it.
“I was always yours Louis,” he finally replies in a low voice, just shy of a whisper, “I always will be. Even when we are not near, when I see your face only in my dreams, you always own my heart, mon cher.”
Louis sighs with relief at the confirmation, the most beautiful words spilling from Lestat’s lipstick covered lips, and pulls Lestat into a crushing hug, lifting him from the ground with the force of it. Just like he should’ve done months ago. And kisses his cheeks, nose, eyelids, the scar near his mouth. Before his searching lips find Lestat’s, Louis pulls back slightly, “That was a yes, right? You will be my companion, my husband again?”
“Well, mon Louis,” Lestat begins with a mirthful tone, it’s nothing short of fascinating how a couple of words from Louis manages to wipe away all the gloom from his handsome face. “I require something much more grandiose for that second thing to happen. But,” his hands swipe up on Louis’ chest and loop around his neck which prompts Louis to grip him by his see-through-fabric covered waist. “Oui, mon amour, I will gladly be your companion again.” His still wet eyes look down and he adds in a self-conscious tone, “You must know by now, how easy I am for you.”
“No, not easy,” Louis firmly objects, giving a tiny pinch to his side, “devoted. You were always open and consistent about your love. I am sorry for not returning that devotion before, but you have to know Les, in my heart it was always reciprocated.” He needs Lestat to understand, he’s desperate for it. And as Lestat stares into Louis’ eyes, he knows he’s telling the truth. This, this feels real. Louis loves him, even during those candle lit nights in New Orleans he loved him, even when he was trapped in the cage of a relationship he built for himself with Armand, he loved him.
Even when Lestat was at his worst; bellowing profanities at their house, kissing young talented musicians in dark corners, losing himself in the darkness of his past life, he loved him. Even when Louis himself was at his worst; excluding Lestat from his conversations with Claudia, withholding his love to use it as a secret weapon, standing still and allowing Claudia to slit his throat and plunge that knife into his heart again and again, Louis loved him.
“It’s alright, I know now, Louis.” Lestat says, he doesn’t want to linger on their past mistakes, he just wants to kiss Louis and celebrate their reunion.
“It’s not alright but thankfully I have an eternity to atone for my wrongdoings.” Louis smiles ruefully, which Lestat immediately fixes by drawing him in a long-awaited kiss. His ring clad fingers slip through Louis’ curls, his tongue worms its way into Louis’ warm mouth to familiarize him with his taste and Louis in return, presses him into his chest by a hand on his lower back and gently cradles his face with the other.
When they finally manage to pull back from the fiery kiss, with heaving chests and slick lips, Lestat speaks. “I have my own share of mistakes as well, but we have time to make it right. That’s why I call it the Dark Gift, mon cher. It seems like a curse but it can be a gift too.”
“I see that now, love.” Louis caresses Lestat’s cheek and they take a moment just to stare into each other’s eyes.
“I love you, Lestat. Every single part of my heart beats for you.”
“Oh my Saint Louis, I love you more than I could ever put into words.” Lestat takes a measured breath then, happy and excited for what the night will bring. “Will you take me to bed Louis?”
“There's nothing I would want more, darlin’.”