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[Drops his bag the moment that he sees Lestat, he curls his arms tight around Lestat as they embrace. He buries his face in Lestat's neck, drinking in the smell of him.

Louis smells vaguely of the Bridgerton-Basset home, but nothing strong enough to indicate that he had relations with either Anthony or Simon.]

I'm so sorry I left.

[Lestat could weep again at the words and the feel of Louis in his arms once more. He buries his face in Louis’ neck in turn, wrapping closer around him. The scent tells the story of where he’s been and he is grateful that he came back, that it only took an hour before he’d come home.]

Just stay. Just stay here with me.

I will. I promise. I'll stay.

[Louis tilts his face just enough to press a kiss to Lestat's cheek before re-burying his face in Lestat's neck. His arms cling to Lestat, pull him in tight.]

I'm sorry.

[As much as Lestat wants to be more stoic, he can't, not with the wash of shame and sadness and relief that have roiled through him. Bloody tears blot the collar of Louis' collar where he's buried into his neck, his fingers gripping tight to the fabric of his shirt.]

I didn't even know where you'd gone, just that you'd left and something was wrong.

I can't -- I cannot keep watching you storm away.

I won't do it again, I swear. [And Louis means it, no matter how quickly the vow has been sworn. He'd known he made a mistake almost as soon as he'd walked out the door, but told himself that he needed time to cool down.] No matter what happens.

[Louis sucks in a breath.] I knew it was something that would hurt you but I did it anyway.

[He really is exactly who he was when he left New Orelans. He hasn't changed.]

All right.

All right.

[He knows Louis did it to hurt him, same as in New Orleans when he had told Lestat he'd always be alone, then dashed back with Claudia hours later. It's the same song and dance they've done before, even then -- Louis on his knees, swearing to never leave while Claudia charred and wheezed on the carpet.

Lestat wants to believe they are better than they were, but in the end, does it matter? He'll take Louis back every time, bury himself in his arms on each return. Perhaps he really is who he was in New Orleans, at least in that much.]

What happened?

It start with you acting kind of off. I asked a couple of questions and you were being, well, not yourself. No offense, but you have this tendency to dance around answers when you don't want to answer them.

[Louis pulls back just enough to look into Lestat's eyes.]

This time you weren't. And I asked another question then another. I kept getting angrier. You told me about the auditors, how you... [Louis sags, he doesn't want to say this part out loud.

However, in the spirit of being honest.] How you 'whored' yourself out to save the gallery and this townhouse. I didn't know what other secrets you'd been keeping from me so I kept asking.

And then you mentioned what I did to you in New Orleans and I couldn't listen to it any more.

[Louis could have stopped asking questions far before the topic of New Orleans came up, but he'd done it to himself and punished Lestat for his own transgressions.]

I lost it. And I wanted to hurt you. So I left.

[Lestat listens, feeling uneasy at the unsettlingly true description of his own indirect style of speaking. And then Louis continues to explain, and he has the slow-sinking realization that he had likely had no choice but to speak plainly. And Louis had asked him directly, asked for answers that Lestat would have known not to give.

He looks at Louis while he speaks, his eyes rimmed red while an uneasy understanding settles in.]

So you did.

[He doesn't know how to respond to this. Lestat doesn't want to argue, but he is left with the feeling that his own secrecy had been the wiser call in the end, the easiest way to keep Louis from lashing out in anger. And yet Louis had pressed for answers he hadn't truly wanted all the same.]

[And now the guilt settles in. Louis keeps his gaze set on Lestat, eyes beginning to redden around the edges with the beginning of tears.]

I... was wrong. What I did was wrong.

[Louis takes in another breath.]

I'm sorry.

[He feels like they're on different footing, like his mishap at the Christmas Ball.]

And you don't have to take me back if that's what you decide.

[It would most certainly cause Louis to drop into a deep depression, he'd bury himself in books, he'd never forgive himself for ruining the best thing in his life.]

[He deflates again at that, because of course Louis in his deep wells of anxiety would think this would be enough to make Lestat leave. Lestat gathers him closer, arms winding tighter as he presses a kiss to Louis' cheek.]

Do not say such a thing. As if I could so easily tear myself away from you. As if I could ever toss you inside.

[And quietly, he realizes where the mention of New Orleans must have come from -- because the truth is, he's not sure there is anything that would make him leave. If Louis had come back to him even after his neck had been cut, Lestat would have not hesitated to reunite again.]

[Louis almost doesn't allow himself to be pulled in. He feels the kiss to his cheek but, he doesn't feel he deserves it after all he's done.]

I manipulated you, Lestat. I'm toxic.

[Because it's true. Who would provoke their loved one and then act on that loved one's greatest fear?

He's nothing worth loving.]

[Lestat exhales slowly, seeing the wheels of Louis' mind spinning. He presses a kiss to Louis' mouth, lingering even if Louis does not return it.]

As if I am some saint. As if I do not have my own moments of poisonous words.

[He leans his forehead to the crook of Louis' neck, drinking in the scent of him. Louis' heartbeat thuds beneath his skin, and Lestat aches knowing he could not leave him, that he never wishes to.]

Just stay. Please, please just stay.

[Louis's fingers play at Lestat's shirt, his heart continuing to sink even as Lestat kisses him.]

I'll stay if you do.

[If Lestat still wants him. If Lestat can stand what Louis has done to him.]

Of course I will.

[He runs his fingers across Louis' back, fingers twisting in his shirt. Lestat could not leave him, not for this or anything else, and it aches him that the dark corners of Louis' mind might make him think otherwise.]

You are my heart, cher. I want to walk eternity with you.

[Louis leans into Lestat's shoulder, his arms curling stronger around Lestat.]

I'm so sorry, Lestat.

[The fact that Lestat wants him back in any capacity speaks to the depths of change that have affected Lestat.]

It's all right, my Louis. It's all right.

[He gathers Louis in closer to him, one arm wrapping up his back as he leans in. Lestat drags his nails in soothing lines down Louis' scalp, tracing gentle trails through his hair.]

You cannot scare me away so easily as all that. I wish to have you with me always.

I won't forgive myself.

[Louis remains where he is, half slung in Lestat's arms.]

[Lestat sighs softly, nestling his face against the side of Louis' head.]

Ever the Catholic you are, my Louis. If only there were a priest here for you to confess to.

[Still gently stroking his nails through his hair, he murmurs:]

Shall I give you another penance to pay? Something else to let you atone, if it eases your soul?

Not sure if anything will ease it right now.

[Louis doesn't understand how Lestat is forgiving him so easily. Lestat has every right to be angry with him. To hate him. Louis leans up and looks at Lestat, really looks at him. How? How can Lestat forgive him?

Yes, Louis will stay, but perhaps he will bury himself in books as he replays the incident in his head.]

How are you not pissed at me?

I am angry with you.

[It burns less brightly now than it did a moment before, but it's still there. Now it sits as an unhappy frustration -- at Louis pushing for things he knew Lestat did not want to discuss, at being punished by Louis when the answers he'd asked for appeared. At how Louis had wanted to hurt him and did it so easily, even if it shifted to regret.]

But I don't want you to leave, either.

[Well there's one thing that makes sense in all of this. Lestat's anger is well-earned and Louis nods.]

I won't leave, Lestat. I promise.

[He won't use Lestat's fear against him ever, ever again.]

Good. Good.

[If there is frustration there still, then he knows it will dissipate so long as Louis stays. It can be worked past. They've managed through much worse than this before.

Lestat lets out a long exhale, face still buried into Louis' neck, hands still curled against him.]

I just want you to be happy, Louis.

[Whatever form that takes. If it means whoring himself out, fucking who he's told, then fair enough. If it means the gallery, the house, if it means keeping quiet when the city makes demands meant to shame him, then that's what he will do.]

I know, Lestat.

[Louis leans in to press a kiss to Lestat’s forehead and lingers there.]

I know.

[He still doesn’t want Lestat to whore himself out or put himself at risk for Louis’s happiness, but he doesn’t want to broach that subject again now.]

I love you.

I love you, too, cher.

[He feels entirely drained and tired, bloody tears still rimming his eyes. But he loves Louis more than anything else across the centuries, and to have him there in his arms is a warmth that he can hold onto. It's enough to blot out any lingering anger, enough that he knows it will die down given time.]

Let's go upstairs, lay down. You're probably exhausted.

[And Louis will join him, but he's not sure how much sleep he might get.]

OK to wrap here?

unwillingdevil - 2025-04-09 02:55 (UTC) - Expand

yep!

interviewee - 2025-04-09 02:56 (UTC) - Expand

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OK to wrap here?

yep!