Chapter Text
It seemed as if an eternity had passed before Louis and Lestat could bear to part from one another's arms. The storm howled behind them. The house creaked with a great groan, threatening to collapse at any moment. Louis looked at Lestat and gazed into his incandescent grey eyes. It wasn't long until he was running a hand through Lestat's tangled blond mess of hair.
"Lestat," he finally said, breaking the silence between them. His voice was gentle, no more than a breath, barely audible amongst the loud winds and thunder of the stormy night. "We need to get out of here before the roof falls in on us."
Lestat stared back at his old lover.
This version of Lestat seemed so foreign to Louis, yet simultaneously so familiar even after all the years they had spent apart.
Lestat placed his hand on top of his fledgling's, coming to rest on the side of his own face by his jaw. His fingers brushed against Louis's, lovingly tracing his knuckles. His gaze slowly drifted across Louis's face, admiring the gorgeous green eyes of the man that he had always adored. Lestat had a pleading look in his eyes, dampened now, glazed over with a film of red tears. Louis melted at the sight.
"Hey," Louis spoke more firmly now, a sense of urgency washing over him. "I'm not abandoning you, I promise. I'm not leaving, we just need to leave here for our safety, okay? Gather your stuff and I'll take you to my hotel room 'til the storm's over. We can figure out what to do after that."
Lestat gingerly pulled away from Louis's touch and nodded slowly. There was a certain weight to Louis's words, hidden between the phrases muttered by his deep, gentle voice. Lestat walked to the other side of the room, shoving his few belongings into a worn suitcase. Louis squinted, the suitcase looking familiar to him. He furrowed his eyebrows, realising with a bittersweet remembrance where he recognised it from – realising that it was one they had bought together back in the 1920s, before her. He inhaled sharply before he spoke again. Lestat's head shot up instantly.
"I can hold your hand til we get to the hotel, if you want me to. Just – if you want to that is, if you're that worried about me leaving."
Lestat let out a quiet sob, choking back tears. A grateful smile spread across his face as he finished packing. As soon as he was done he raced over to Louis, interlocking their fingers once again. They rushed out of the decaying wooden door of the breaking shack that Lestat had been surviving in (not living, Louis noted, as much as Lestat would deny it) and headed for Louis's hotel.
The pair reached the hotel lobby relatively quickly with the state of the city taken into consideration, just narrowly managing to make it inside. They had arrived as staff had begun to board up the building. If they had left any later than they did they might not have been able to get in at all. Lestat wiped away tears when Louis released his hand, hoping he would not notice that he was crying. Louis said nothing and tried to ignore how it made his heart flutter. Instead, he spoke to the concierge at the reception desk while Lestat caught his breath in the corner, unfit from isolating himself for all those years and starving himself of blood. Louis made a mental note to himself. That'll need to be addressed at some point, too.
"Don't bother with any housekeeping for us, please. We would appreciate our privacy over the next few days, if it isn't too much to ask." Louis said with a gentle smile, sliding a large cash tip across the table.
"Anything you ask, Mr du Lac. It's our pleasure. I'll see to it that you aren't disturbed." The man flashed an earnest smile at Louis, his eyes widening at the amount of money Louis had given him. He aimed a smile towards Lestat too, who stood speechless by the elevator, still catching his breath. Louis grabbed the key from the young man and shoved it into the pocket of his jacket, soaked from the rain. He ran a hand through his wet curls, fingers separating them as he did, and walked to the elevator. The door opened with the press of a button.
"Shall we?" Lestat followed, and the elevator door shut behind them.
Lestat stared at his reflection against the shiny metal of the elevator. He appeared totally disheveled, particularly against his fledging who he thought was beautiful, even dripping head to toe in water. Even after everything that had happened between them. Lestat returned his gaze to his own body, narrowly avoiding being caught staring. His robe was worn and fraying, threads coming loose at the hem. But it was one too sentimental to discard. It was the one he'd worn when he first revealed his nature to Louis, first drank from Louis, the first time he'd made love to Louis. His Louis. He looked at his hair, once gorgeous blond waves, now a messy golden birds nest.
Louis could feel him thinking and shot a concerned look at his maker.
"You okay, Lestat?"
Lestat didn't answer, instead flashing Louis a smile that didn't meet his eyes.
I look ugly and you're the most beautiful thing to walk the earth. I don't deserve to even be in your presence after all I've done to you. I'm thinking about the love we shared and all the ways I wronged you and how it will never be right between us.
But he doesn't say that aloud. He settles for something else instead.
"Just thinking, that's all." A harmless white lie, followed up by a truth. "You look nice, mon chér. Even windswept, drenched in rain."
Louis heart skips a beat when Lestat calls him that. It had been nearly 80 years since he last heard it uttered from his lips. Soft, pink lips. So many years of love unuttered between them. His heart was pounding now, praying Lestat wouldn't notice the palpations he had caused him. Instead, his train of thoughts were interrupted by the ding of the elevator. As the door flew open, both men let out a silent sigh of relief. No more words would have to be shared in the uncomfortable silence.
At least not yet.
Louis stepped out of the elevator first, beckoning for Lestat to follow behind him. He picked up his wooden piano and carried it under his arm, suitcase clutched in the other. He was in awe of the size of the suite as they approached, realising it was so large that it was practically an apartment.
"This must have been so expensive, Louis."
Louis grinned, biting his lip slightly – enough for Lestat to notice, even though it was subconscious. Lestat's face flushed red, despite being starved of human blood.
"Been doing pretty well for myself. Don't mean to brag, but I've done well dealing art all these years back in Dubai."
"I don't doubt it, chéri. You've always had exquisite taste."
They reached the door of the suite, and Louis fumbled in his pockets for the key. Opening it, he flipped the sign on the door to "do not disturb" before letting Lestat inside.