Chapter Text
“I do not wish to marry him,” Lestat was pleading yet firm in his claim, more so than he usually dared when speaking to his mother. “We’ve met no more than once, many summers ago.”
To his mother, Gabriella de Lioncourt, that did not seem to matter much. “You have been promised to him since the eve of your birth, piccolino. Do you think I wanted to marry your father? There is no want. You do what is expected of you and find a way to make something of yourself.”
It was a newly established Lioncourt family tradition, one that had been brought up in response to the Marquis’ squandering of their fortune. Once a child was of age, they would be married off in return for a sort of compensation, monetary or otherwise. Ever since he was young, Lestat had been well aware of his fate.
At seven years old, he was berated at the dinner table for having poor manners (“Get your goddamn elbows off of the table, Lestat. Keep that up and you will one day embarrass your husband just as you have embarrassed me”). At eleven years old, he was smacked around for talking back and being a brat (“Your husband will not put up with this unruly behaviour any more than I have, Lestat”). At fifteen years old, he was forbidden from going on dates out of some paranoid fear of being seen as sexual (“Do not shame your husband, Lestat, he will think you are dirty and corrupt”). At nineteen years old, he was forced to decline a study opportunity in favour of preparing for his impending coming-of-age (“Your husband does not want someone smart, he wants someone pretty, which, in your case, is a blessing, Lestat”).
Growing up, it had always been your husband this, your husband that. Like his entire life revolved around some future husband he didn’t even know. A future husband he didn’t even want. Despite the attempted indoctrination, Lestat had never fully accepted it. There had been a part of him, however small, that hoped his mother would convince his father to back out of the agreement. Marriage had been Gabriella’s death sentence, so how could she agree to condemning her favourite of the Lioncourt children?
Lestat was the second youngest of four – second youngest of eight if one included the siblings who hadn’t survived. His older brothers Augustin and Gregoire had both already enlisted into the French army and Lestat had not seen them in years. Their wives and children lived on the Lioncourt estate, probably better off for not seeing them.
His younger sister, Marie, was unorthodox. The two of them may have looked similar, with their blonde hair, pale skin, cherry red lips, and deep blue eyes, but they couldn’t have been more different. She indulged in the simple pleasures of life with disregard for any expectations placed upon her. Marie went out and wouldn’t come home until long after the sun had set. Marie read books and had an interest in furthering her education. Marie spoke her mind, no matter who was around, something many of the boys in town thought to be an unattractive quality in a lady of her class.
The Marquis found Marie to be an embarrassment to the family name and could not wait to marry her off in two years. Gabriella had never been particularly close with Marie just as her own mother had not been particularly close to her. He’d always found that odd, considering he found the two of them to be quite similar. But then again, perhaps they existed only as an unnerving reflection of each other, reminding Gabriella of all she missed out on and frightening Marie with what she might yet become.
Lestat, too, found himself jealous of Marie, and maybe that was one of the reasons Gabriella preferred him. Lestat had spent his entire life following the rules, doing what was expected of him, and listening to his mother’s every word. And yet, he found himself with the exact same fate as his completely disobedient sister.
In two years, Marie would wed the eldest son of the Chaudoir family, Elldrich. She would find herself settling down, putting the completely wild life she lived behind her, each act of liberation a mere memory she would look back upon and smile at as she cleaned, or cooked, or washed.
Marie would have memories to look back on while Lestat would only have regrets.
Lestat had played it safe all his life and it had gotten him absolutely nowhere. His twentieth birthday had come and gone, and with it came the Lioncourt tradition. His wedding was in exactly two months, to the day. The groom-to-be was a young man named Nicolas de Lenfent. His father was a senator, his mother an actress. Lestat could barely recall meeting him all those years ago. As expected, he was a respectable man, all smiles and lengthy conversation. Lestat supposed he was not the worst suitor, but as kind as he was, Lestat did not love him.
“A marriage founded on love is as common as a two-tailed hare,” Gabriella claimed when Lestat ventured to voice those hopeless romantic thoughts aloud. “I’ve never seen one.”
So, Lestat would go through with the marriage. There was no other choice, really. He would become Nicolas de Lenfent’s, accompanying him on his arm to lavish gatherings, and eventually helping him raise an heir. That was to be his destiny and really, who was he to challenge it?
His reluctant acceptance did not, however, stop him from stalking the night sky in search of a shooting star to grant his one and only wish.
During times such as those, when Lestat had too many thoughts running around his head, he would often make his way down the hidden path he discovered in the backyard of his family’s estate. After bidding his mother farewell, he started to make his way through the familiar path. It was a mere five-minute walk before he reached his destination – a small clearing in the dense forest. It was no bigger than the size of a small closet, but that was all he needed.
The cause of most of his troubles as of late was, unsurprisingly, Nicolas de Lenfent. He and his family had arrived in the village that morning. Lestat would not be seeing him until one month before the wedding, but that did not lessen the ache in his stomach. He did not want to marry Nicolas, and he was almost certain Nicolas did not want to marry him either.
He took a seat on the forest floor, uncaring of the dirt that could stain his trousers. His husband-to-be could simply buy him another pair.
His back was pressed against the trunk of a large oak tree and the only reason why he was holding back his tears was that the chambermaids had already fixed him up for the day and he did not wish to have to sit through that grueling process twice in one day.
“I absolutely loathe marriage,” Lestat huffed, tilting his head back against the tree, careful not to get any of his curls stuck on a loose piece of bark.
“It’s quite coincidental that I, too, loathe marriage.”
Somehow, the voice came from both everywhere and nowhere…like it was Lestat’s own thoughts, only not. Lestat let out a surprised shout. He was just about to get up and run away when he heard an amused laugh come from the man he could not see.
He stayed put. “Who’s there?” he demanded.
“No one except me,” the man said.
“And who are you?” Lestat pushed.
“No one.”
Lestat had to muster all the patience he had in order to avoid acting uncouth in front of the stranger.
“You are not as funny as you believe yourself to be,” he replied, eyes rolling.
He heard the man laugh again. “You are not the only one to think that.”
“What is your name?” Lestat tried again.
“What is yours?” the man countered.
“Lestat de Lioncourt,” he said with newfound confidence. The Marquis had always insisted that the Lioncourt name was one that could only be said with pride and could only be met with respect. Of course that was just another one of his delusions of grandeur, but it was something he’d instilled in Lestat that he still couldn’t seem to get rid of.
The man went silent. By the time he finally spoke again, Lestat had been half convinced he had already left.
“Will you be back tomorrow?”
Lestat blinked in surprise. “Back? Here?”
“Yes, here,” the man said.
“I suppose I will,” he found himself agreeing, straightening up his posture. Had it been his sister, Marie would not have hesitated to agree, the tease of a good adventure much too strong to resist. Lestat wanted to be more like Marie.
“I will see you tomorrow then, mon ange,” the man said. “Adieu.”
Lestat picked himself off the ground and dusted off his trousers. Luckily, the dirt had not stained. “Until tomorrow,” he agreed. There was no reply, prompting him to leave. He returned home in higher spirits than he had left it.
*
*
*
“Do you know of anyone who would lurk in the forest?” Lestat gestured towards the back of their land.
Marie tilted her head. “Why?”
“I am simply curious,” Lestat feigned disinterest. He was quite good at feigning most emotions these days, what with his newfound status as Lelio at Renaud’s theatre. Acting, performing, being on stage, these were some of the only things that still brought him comfort.
“No human would dare to step foot in that forest,” Marie said.
“Oh,” Lestat sighed in disappointment. Of course it hadn’t been real. Of course.
“So,” Marie continued, “it is not a matter of anyone who would lurk, but anything.”
That got Lestat’s attention. “Anything?”
“Dearest brother, have you ever heard of Le Vampire?” Marie grinned.
He hadn’t.
Marie went on to explain how during one of her many nightly outings to the tavern, way past her curfew, she had met a man. That man had tried, and failed, to impress her with the numerous stories of his life at sea. But Marie did not care for the sea. Once he figured out as much, he told her a new story. One that happened not very far from the same tavern they sat in, that occurred in the forest backing the Lioncourt estate.
Le Vampire. A creature who roamed the forest and only appeared during the night. A creature with sharp fangs and sharper claws, who killed with ease.
Lestat had met him. He’d met Le Vampire, and he’d been out during the day.
“Apparently no one who meets him ever lives to tell the tale,” Marie shrugged. “He has terrible manners.”
But Lestat had lived.
Oh, how he wanted to tell his sister. Never before had he engaged in an activity that would interest his ever-curious sister. Le Vampire intrigued Marie, and Lestat could finally intrigue her as well.
The words rested on the tip of his tongue, but instead, he simply nodded and changed the subject. “Would you like to help me choose the floral arrangements for my wedding?”
The faint smile Marie wore dropped completely. Her face morphed into one that Lestat easily recognized. Disappointment. “Ask Armand, I’m sure he would love to, the masochist.”
With that, Marie left and Lestat was alone. Again. It didn’t take long for Armand to make his way over from the neighbouring estate.
Ever since he’d gotten a handle on his stutter and grown into his looks, Lestat had found himself rather popular in Auvergne. His beauty had certainly helped others overlook the unfortunate deficit of his lineage. It helped win him the role of Lelio. Despite his chastity, there seemed to be no shortage of people who wished to claim some small piece of him, if only for a night, if only to satisfy their curiosity and discover what it might be like to bed Lestat de Lioncourt. Some of those admirers were considerably older than he was, which he tried not to dwell on.
Yet, for all the attention he attracted, very few people ever became genuinely attached to him. Armand was perhaps the sole exception. They had known one another since their youth and had remained, more or less, friends ever since. Like Lestat, Armand drew eyes wherever he went. Unlike Lestat, however, he had somehow found someone who saw beyond the spectacle of him and stayed. He was one of the fortunate few to have the prospect of a genuinely happy marriage.
Daniel Molloy, an American journalist who’d come to the French countryside on a whim in hopes that it would clear his writer’s block, had locked eyes with Armand when they both reached for the same street vendor’s Pink Lady apple. For the past couple months, the two of them had fallen deeper and deeper each day until Daniel’s return trip date arrived. He debated staying longer, but ultimately he knew he had to go tie up a few loose ends before permanently relocating to France. Lestat was almost certain that when Daniel returned from America, he would ask Armand to marry him. He was completely certain that Armand would accept.
Armand had managed to find true love with Daniel, who seemed to suit him in every way. Lestat couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy, he was only human, but envy did little to diminish his happiness for them. Armand could be an absolute nightmarish pain in his ass, yet there had always been something quietly heartbreaking about him. For all his maddening habits, Lestat could not begrudge him this. Armand had always inspired a fond, rueful protectiveness in him, like some poor, strange creature that had suffered so terribly that Lestat couldn’t help but want to wrap it in a blanket and nurse it back to health, despite its persistent efforts to bare its teeth and bite him.
At least one of them would have the chance to be happily married.
“What do you think of this?” Armand asked, holding out a white carnation and blue hydrangea in each hand. Together, the flowers emanated a sense of soft romance, the exact thing Lestat longed for.
“They’re beautiful,” Lestat couldn’t help but let out a dreamy sigh.
“Then I will get you a whole floral arrangement,” Armand claimed. “Name it and it’s yours.”
Lestat appreciated what he was doing for him. Armand was the only person who truly knew how badly Lestat wanted to cancel the wedding. He was the only person who understood that what Lestat wanted couldn’t be found with Nicolas de Lenfent. Begrudgingly, Armand understood it couldn’t be found with him, either.
Despite Lestat’s rejections of his affection throughout their youth, Armand still made it his mission to make the upcoming wedding as perfect as possible. If Armand couldn’t be the one to sweep Lestat off his feet, and Lestat was forced to marry Nicolas, the least Armand could do was help him do it in lavish style.
“Armand,” Lestat felt a lump in his throat. “I do not want to marry him.”
“You could marry me, instead,” Armand offered, putting down the flowers and placing his hand on Lestat’s arm.
“Before Daniel, that might’ve been true. How ironic, all that time spent pining after me and if you had just held out a little bit longer, I probably would’ve come around to marrying you now after all,” Lestat wore a teasing smile.
“All you have to do is say yes,” Armand said. “My home is big enough for the three of us. Daniel wouldn’t mind.”
“I can’t give you what you need,” Lestat’s lips fell into a deeper pout as he shook his head. “He can. Besides, you know it’s too late for me to back out now. I’m marrying Nicolas, whether I like it or not.”
It was a far gentler fate than Lestat could’ve expected. At least Nicolas had a radiant smile and kind eyes. There were men much scarier, far meaner, and more dangerous interested in owning Lestat. Nicolas himself was in a much more similar position to Lestat, forced to marry by his parents. Perhaps they could find some sort of camaraderie.
“I have to marry him,” Lestat continued, feeling tears start to prickle behind his eyes. “And I do not love him.”
Perhaps it was naive of him, but Lestat couldn't shake the feeling that the little stuttering child he'd carried inside him all his life was slowly dying.
*
*
*
The next day, against his better judgement, Lestat went back to the forest.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t show up, mon ange.”
It appeared as though Le Vampire had returned as well.
Lestat discreetly smiled as he sat down on the ground. “I am many things, but a liar is not one of them.”
Le Vampire laughed. “You are something else, I must admit.”
“Something good, I hope,” Lestat raised an eyebrow.
“Something good,” Le Vampire confirmed. “Something beautiful.”
“I know who you are,” Lestat said.
“Oh?” Le Vampire’s voice sounded oddly amused. “And who am I?”
“Le Vampire.”
It was quiet for a moment. Then, “What if I was?”
Lestat hummed, smoothing down his pale blue blouse. He’d worn a particularly nice one today, wearing it made him feel romantic and ethereal. The neckline dipped into a soft V, exposing the elegant line of his collarbones, while a structured corset-style bodice cinched his waist. From his shoulders, airy chiffon sleeves cascaded in layered ruffles, falling nearly to his hips.
On his way out, Marie had commented on his appearance, asking whether he was going to a party. Lestat had lied and said yes, because how could he explain that he’d dressed up only to go into the forest and talk to a man he couldn’t see. He was not sure the man could even see him, either.
“Well, if you were, it wouldn’t matter.”
“If it didn’t matter,” Le Vampire bit back, more cynically than he’d anticipated, “then what would you do?”
“I would simply ask you for your name,” Lestat said. “Even a creature such as yourself must have a real name.”
“Louis,” he faintly revealed, voice laced with disbelief. “My name is Louis. Louis de Pointe du Lac.”
“It’s beautiful,” Lestat tilted his head in acknowledgement.
“Thank you.”
“Louis, if you are a vampire, how are you here, with me, in the daylight,” Lestat frowned. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
“I have trouble sleeping sometimes. Normally, I lay there in my coffin until the sun finally sets, but yesterday, I felt compelled to take a stroll through the forest. I can’t help but think it was related to you. Perhaps you are a siren or a nymph and I am the one in danger.”
Lestat felt oddly flattered by that. He tried to ignore the blush blooming across his cheeks. “But how can you withstand the sunlight?”
“I sit upon the branches, wrapped in a dark cloak. As long as the light doesn’t touch my skin, I will be fine.”
“Well, I am glad to hear you won’t dissolve into ashes anytime soon. I find that I quite like your company,” Lestat admitted.
He could hear the smile in Louis’ voice. “Likewise.”
A woodpecker started drilling into a nearby tree. A squirrel scampered across his legs, darting into a bush. The leaves above him rustled with the wind.
“Yesterday you spoke of marriage,” Louis’ tone rose at the end of his sentence, making it feel more like a question.
“Yes. Marriage. I hate it,” Lestat’s nose wrinkled in distaste.
“Are you…married?” Louis slowly continued.
Lestat frantically shook his head. “No, not at all. Not yet.”
Louis sounded relieved. “Ah.”
“But,” Lestat huffed. “I am promised to someone. We are to be wed in two months' time.”
“I can’t help but notice you do not seem like a willing participant in this future marriage,” Louis said. “I have no experience in marriage but one would think that would put a damper on any relationship.”
“I don’t want to be married,” Lestat agreed.
“Why, is he ugly?”
He snorted. “No. The opposite, actually.”
“Destitute?”
“No, he has a healthy family fortune,” Lestat clasped his hands together. If anything, Lestat was the poor one.
“Does he snore?”
“No,” Lestat paused. “Well, maybe. I actually don’t know, but it really doesn’t matter to me either way.”
Louis seemed to be stuck between a mix of amusement and frustration. “Well, Lestat, I am struggling to see what the issue is. Are you just being stubborn?”
“I don’t know him,” Lestat shared. Then, more quietly, he added, “I don’t love him.”
“Have you tried saying no?” Louis offered.
A flash of anger swam through Lestat’s veins. “Of course I’ve said no, Louis. I’m not an idiot. It’s just that my no doesn't seem to matter much. I don’t have a choice.”
Louis sounded apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended,” Lestat lied, just to be contrarian.
“Of course not,” Louis agreed. “I’m sorry regardless.”
“Apology accepted,” Lestat turned his nose up in the air.
“If you loved him, would you want to marry him?” Louis continued to push the issue.
“Yes,” Lestat hummed. “Though it is not specific to him. I would marry anyone I loved.”
“So you don’t really hate marriage,” Louis chuckled. “You hate your circumstances.”
Lestat rolled his eyes. “And what about you, monsieur vampire? Are you married? Can vampires marry?”
“Of course we can marry. I am not though. Nor do I plan to be,” Louis responded.
“If you loved them, would you marry them?” Lestat mocked.
Louis sounded endeared against his will. “Maybe. It depends.”
“On what?”
“If they loved me back.”
And wasn’t that like a line taken straight from Lestat’s mind. The desperate desire to not only love, but be loved. Lestat wasn’t particularly confident whether anyone had ever loved him before. Not even Armand, who’d been claiming to love him for years.
He felt a string of doubt tighten around his heart. No, no one had ever loved him. Not in the way he yearned to be loved. A string of fear joined it. He was uncertain anyone ever would.
“Lestat,” Louis paused long enough that Lestat felt compelled to fill the dead air.
“Yes, Louis?”
“What if I helped show you what it was like,” Louis cleared his throat. “To be loved.”
Lestat blinked. “Excuse me?”
Regaining his confidence, Louis continued. “Yes, I could show you what it’s like to be loved. That way, by the time you marry him, you will have gotten it out of your system.”
“I’m not sure–” Lestat trailed off. I’m not sure I’ll be able to let it go once I’ve had it.
“Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, right?” Louis mused.
“Well, I suppose so,” Lestat tilted his head.
“What?” Louis challenged. “You don’t think I can love you right?”
He laughed. “I don’t know, can Le Vampire love a human?”
Louis’ voice took on a devastatingly flirtatious lilt. “Lestat, I will make you feel so loved you won’t know what to do with it. I will sweep you off your feet and make you believe you’re living a fairytale. I will be the first person to get their hands on you and I will make it so good for you, you’ll never forget it, not even when your husband finally touches you. And in two months…I’ll let you go.”
Flustered, Lestat struggled to find his voice. Face warm, he coughed. “I would be amenable to that, I think.”
“So, it’s settled then, mon ange,” Louis’ whisper echoed all around him. “You are mine, and I am yours.”
Lestat found that he didn’t mind belonging to someone when that someone belonged to him as well. Mine. Louis is mine. And I am his.
“You’re an actor, right? At the theatre?” Louis asked.
Lestat nodded. “I am the newest Lelio.”
“Is there a show tonight?”
Tentatively, he nodded again.
“Perfect. I’ll see you tonight then, my star.”
Lestat blinked. “Y-you’re coming to my show? You’ll be in the audience?”
None of Lestat’s family had ever showed up to see him play Lelio on stage. They waved off his passion for the theatre as just another one of his little quirks. It was nothing more than the place where he pranced around, dolled up, making a fool of himself.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you. I have a feeling you know how to command the stage,” Louis said.
“But how will I know who you are? I’ve never seen your face,” Lestat said.
Louis chuckled. “I’ll find you backstage. You’ll know me when you see me.”
By the time Lestat left to go meet Armand for lunch, he still felt butterflies in his stomach. Louis had wished him luck for tonight and promised to dress up for him. Lestat was beyond excited to perform in front of him – perform for him. Finally, there would be someone in the crowd who loved him, no matter how temporary that love was.
And most importantly, he would finally get to see Louis. Oh, how he longed to see Louis’ face, his eyes, his lips, his body, his clothes, his mannerisms, his everything.
Perhaps that longing was reflected on Lestat’s face, because as soon as he sat down across from Armand, he frowned.
“You met someone,” Armand accused.
“What?” Lestat jumped. “N-No.”
Armand’s eyes widened. “You have!”
Lestat scoffed. “You’re deranged.”
“Well, yes,” Armand agreed. “And you’re infatuated.”
“Keep your voice down,” Lestat shushed.
“Who is it?” Armand’s stare was heavy.
“His name,” Lestat sighed, “is Louis.”
He thought about lying to Armand for about one second before remembering who he was talking to. If he didn’t tell Armand, Armand would find out on his own. He always did.
“Louis,” Armand repeated. “I don’t know of any Louis here.”
“He’s…new,” Lestat explained. “Different.”
“He must be, if he was the one finally able to capture your attention,” Armand looked slightly petulant.
“Don’t be jealous, it’s unbecoming,” Lestat chastised him.
“And what about Nicolas? Your impending marriage?” Armand asked. “Did you forget about this?”
“How could I forget about it, Armand. It has been the only thing on my mind as of late,” Lestat narrowed his eyes.
“Okay,” Armand relented. “I am being rude, forgive me. I am just concerned.”
“And jealous,” Lestat added, laughing slightly.
“And jealous,” he agreed. “Where did you meet this Louis?”
“...In the forest,” Lestat held back a wince.
Armand’s nose wrinkled. “In the forest? My god, Lestat, have you lost your mind?”
“He is very kind! And funny, and cultured, and charming, and confident, and elegant,” Lestat ranted.
“Is he handsome?”
“I assume so,” Lestat shrugged. He couldn’t imagine ever being disappointed once he saw what Louis looked like. No matter what, he would think him quite beautiful.
“You assume?” Armand blinked.
“What I meant to say is yes, he’s very handsome,” Lestat said.
“Lestat, I am worried for you. Are you sure Louis is real and not some figment of your imagination to help cope with your unfortunate circumstances?” Armand frowned.
“Louis is real,” Lestat huffed. “In fact, he’s coming to my show tonight.”
“Well, in that case, so will I,” Armand hummed.
Lestat froze. “What?”
“I’ll go to your show tonight as well. You know I love seeing you on stage anyways, but this way I can assuage my concerns and see this Louis,” Armand explained.
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Lestat forced a laugh.
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you,” Armand said.
Of course. Why wouldn’t this be what happened? Armand and Louis in the same place.
It was going to be a long performance.
*
*
*
Lestat would be the first to admit he’d lived a very sheltered life. Barely any friends, no paramours, the most basic of education, a stifling family, a repressive home. Being on stage, being Lelio, was one of the only places he felt free to express himself. He could let go of everything else and just be.
Even knowing Louis was somewhere in the audience watching him wasn’t enough to knock him off his stride. If anything, it fueled him. He gave one of his best performances yet.
As the curtain fell, Lestat's chest heaved and he felt his heartbeat racing. He wore an animalistic grin.
After receiving many claps on the back from his fellow actors, he waited backstage for Louis, opting to head to the dressing room later. He couldn’t wait any longer to see him.
A few minutes passed where Lestat’s adrenaline rush started to fade and the nerves started to set in. Lestat started to absentmindedly chew on his bottom lip. What if Louis didn’t show? What if he lied? Or worse, what if he did show up and hated it? What if he left early?
Oh god, what if Louis really was a figment of his imagination? What if Armand was right to be worried? What if the night was about to get incredibly embarrassing?
“Hello, Lestat,” a voice gently called out from behind him. Lestat spun around and felt his face break out into a huge grin.
“Louis,” he breathed out.
Louis stood before him, dressed in a finely tailored oxblood-red suit with matched tinted sunglasses. He looked absolutely fetching under the backstage lights, with the most attractive face Lestat could ever recall seeing. Louis de Pointe du Lac was entirely enchanting. Lestat was suddenly certain Louis was not a figment of his imagination because not even his own mind could have conjured up the vision of beauty before him.
In his arms was a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Upon closer examination, they seemed to be black baccara roses.
Louis held out the bouquet to Lestat. “These are for you, mon ange. You were incredible out there tonight.”
Lestat held the roses in his clammy hands. “Thank you, Louis.”
Louis reached out to brush a few strands of hair behind Lestat’s ear. His fingers lingered, dragging along his jawline. “Absolutely breathtaking.”
Lestat’s breathing hitched. “Would you…like to come back to my dressing room?”
“There’s nothing I would like more,” Louis nodded.
Lestat felt Louis’ footsteps following him down the corridor towards his dressing room. It seemed as though they were synced to Lestat’s heartbeat.
He opened the door, gesturing for Louis to step in first before closing the door behind them. Leaning his back against the door, he brought the bouquet up to his nose and deeply inhaled. They smelled like Louis.
“Thank you, again,” Lestat quietly said. “I feel…”
“Loved?” Louis softly suggested.
Lestat nodded.
“Good,” Louis smiled. “Then I’m doing my job properly.”
A knock on the door interrupted their moment. Lestat cracked the door open slightly to see who it was and opened it wider once he recognized Armand.
“Marvellous job tonight,” Armand said. Then he noticed the roses in Lestat’s hands. “A secret admirer?”
Lestat stepped aside to allow Armand a better view inside the room. His glance immediately passed over onto Louis.
“Hello,” Louis said, tipping his head in acknowledgement.
“Is this Louis?” Armand asked.
“Mhm,” Lestat nodded. His cheeks heated up slightly when he realized it was a slightly compromising situation for Armand to find them in. He never brought anyone to his dressing room.
“Well then,” Armand folded his arms across his chest. “I will leave you to it, Lestat. I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”
The look Armand gave him was equal parts huh, good for you and we’re discussing this more tomorrow.
Once Lestat had closed the door again, Louis asked, “That’s not the guy, right? The one you’re marrying?”
“Oh god, no,” Lestat snorted. “He wishes.”
Louis hummed but remained silent. Lestat took that as his cue to start getting unready. After leaving the bouquet on a side table, he sat down in front of the vanity mirror and started to wash off his makeup. The role of Lelio didn’t call for as much makeup as some other roles did, but, like all stage roles, they needed to use makeup to enhance his features to be seen as far back in the room as possible. Then he pulled his hair back into a low ponytail, a few loose curls falling into his face.
Through the mirror, he could see Louis watching him from where he’d taken a seat on the small loveseat. He found himself feeling like he would do anything to keep Louis’ eyes on him. Speaking of eyes…
“Why do you wear those glasses inside?” Lestat asked.
“My eyes changed when I became a vampire,” Louis replied.
Lestat was surprised. “You weren’t always a vampire?”
Louis smiled indulgently. “No, vampires are made. I was human, just like you.”
“Who made you?”
“You gotta be careful which vampires you ask that question to, mon ange. It can be a sore subject,” Louis explained. “But, my maker was a former flame of mine. We enjoyed each other’s company, but it wasn’t serious, and when we finally ended things, he offered me the gift. These days Lemuel is a lot more meticulous in choosing his fledglings.”
That was a lot of information to take in. Lestat had assumed Louis had always been a vampire. Now, knowing he’d been human at one point…well, as he said, it was a lot to take in. Louis may have been a dangerous creature of the night, but he was also like Lestat. It created a much more complex, relatable, three-dimensional picture of Louis beyond the label of vampire.
Lestat, realizing the weight of what Louis trusted to share with him, decided it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. He got up from the vanity mirror and grabbed his regular clothes from where they sat, folded on the nearby ottoman.
He turned to Louis, expectantly.
Louis raised an eyebrow.
Lestat put a hand on his hip. “I need to change.”
He held his hands up in a placating gesture. “No one’s stopping you.”
Lestat’s cheeks reddened. “Louis!”
“Alright,” Louis laughed. “You want me to close my eyes?”
Well, when he really thought about it…no he didn’t want that.
“Oh,” Louis’ face broke out in a teasing grin, impressed. “You’re full of surprises. You’re gonna be a handful, I can tell.”
“I’m going to turn around, to maintain the slightest sense of modesty. You may look, as people in love usually do not hide from one another, right?” Lestat noted.
“There’s no need to hide, not with the plans I have for us later,” Louis agreed. “But for now I’ll keep my hands to myself. Just lookin’.”
“Consider this your second show of the night, then,” Lestat coyly remarked, finding a newfound sense of confidence in himself and his body. He slowly turned around and shrugged his coat off onto the back of a chair. He started unbuttoning his shirt, holding it out and dropping it on top of the coat. He could feel Louis’ gaze searing into his naked skin.
Then, he removed his trousers, letting them fall and pool around his ankles. The only undergarments he wore were the skintight base layer of white tights. Ignoring how vulnerable and embarrassed he felt, he grabbed the waistband and bent over to drag the tights down. With everything removed, Lestat coquettishly glanced over his shoulder at Louis.
Louis’ heated stare met his. He saw the front of Louis’ pants slightly tented between his spread legs. The hand resting on his knee flexed.
Decisively, Lestat turned around so Louis could see how affected he was as well. Louis’ eyes slowly scanned over his entire body.
“Yeah, you’re gonna be trouble,” Louis announced.
He liked the implications of that. Like he was a brat who needed to be put in his place. Like he was a seductress, putting himself on display for Louis. Like he was a slut, but only for Louis.
“Trouble indeed,” Louis repeated, this time more quietly, as though he was talking to himself.
Lestat made quick work of getting dressed. He grabbed the bouquet again and waited for Louis by the door to give him time to adjust his…situation. Then the two of them walked out of the theatre and onto the street.
“Well,” Lestat cleared his throat. “Thank you for this evening. I did feel loved.”
There was a twinkle in Louis’ eyes. “You haven’t seen the half of it, yet. This is just the beginning, mon ange.”
Lestat was already beginning to regret agreeing to Louis’ idea. How was he going to be able to let him go in two months? The realization of how much that was going to hurt felt like a bucket of cold water being poured over him.
“Let me walk you home,” Louis offered, holding out his arm.
Lestat entwined his arm with Louis’. That was a problem for another day. For now, he was going to enjoy it.
Louis ended up accompanying Lestat all the way to the front door of the Lioncourt estate. Lestat looked at his glasses.
“Could I see your eyes?” Lestat asked. “They say the eyes are the windows to the soul and I would like to see yours.”
Louis scoffed. “Do vampires have souls?”
“I don’t know about the rest of them, but you do,” Lestat responded. “I know you do. Let me see it.”
Almost flustered, Louis acquiesced. He removed the glasses, folded the arms, and hung them from his breast pocket. “Well?”
His eyes were a dazzling emerald green. Lestat felt like he was falling into them just by looking at them.
“Just as I suspected,” Lestat breathed. “Radiant.”
“You’re not so bad at this, for someone so inexperienced,” Louis said.
A light turned on inside the house. It looked like it came from the kitchen. It was probably Marie getting her nightly glass of warm milk. Ever since they were children, she couldn’t fall asleep without one.
“I’d better let you go,” Louis stepped back. “I had a lovely evening with you, Lestat.”
Without second guessing himself, Lestat stepped forward to brush his lips against Louis’ cheekbone. “Thank you, Louis. For everything.”
One of Louis’ hands raised to touch where Lestat had kissed him. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
Lestat pointed to one of the windows above them. “That one is my bedroom. Come visit me tomorrow night.”
“Consider it a date,” Louis playfully teased. He didn’t leave until Lestat had entered and locked the front door behind him.
He tried to creep past the kitchen without Marie noticing but he was unsuccessful.
“Who are the flowers from?” Marie called out in a hushed voice.
“A…special friend of mine,” Lestat said.
Marie’s face scrunched. “Armand?”
“No,” Lestat sighed. “Louis. My new beau.”
Her eyes widened. “Someone finally cracked through that shell of yours?”
Lestat couldn’t help but smile. “It appears so.”
“But what about Nicolas de Lenfent?” Marie pressed.
His smile dropped. “I will still marry him. I’m just…getting it out of my system beforehand, that’s all.”
Marie didn’t look quite convinced, but she was kind enough not to say more than, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Les.”
So did he.