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The room is dark around him. Silent. Armand left the bed an hour ago, excusing himself on the premise of attending to some problem the staff have come across. There was none. The mortals they employed were simply too efficient, too afraid of drawing Armand's ire to allow for any mistakes.
He'd forgone the comfort of the blankets, laying quietly on his side, the air conditioning brushing against the bare skin of his torso. Louis fought the urge to shiver as the chill air brushed over him. He opened his eyes to the darkness of the room. Daylight-darkness, the protective shielding covering the windows had been engaged, bringing the room into a strange dim realm.
The sun pulled at the back of his mind, pounding with the mindlessness of a hammer on a rail. It pulsed through him with every beat of his heart, the daytime drowsiness tugging at his senses. It did nothing to dull the image of Lestat as he walked around the foot of the bed. He sat in the low chair at Louis' side of the bed, knees bunched up as he tucked his long legs underneath him.
Lestat slung one arm over the back of the leather chair, the other resting on his crossed left leg. He'd dressed for the occasion – white button up, a swath of pale chest visible through the open fabric. Grey striped trousers, his house slippers instead of the usual black leather shoes he would have worn. His hair was mussed, the curls tousled and tangled over his shoulders. His pale skin gleamed in the twilight darkness, pale and flawless as marble.
His lips, that infuriating mouth, drew Louis' gaze. If he focused hard enough, he could almost feel the softness of those lips. The plush give of his generous lower lip. The scratch of the ever-present stubble as they'd kiss.
“So, how did it go?” His voice broke the silence, carrying the strange timbre the vision's voice always had.
There and not-there. Deep, sweet, gathering into the back of Louis' mind. It drew him in.
“Disappointing as usual?” Lestat said, chuckling low in his throat.
Louis sighed, his shoulders bunching around his ears. He shut his eyes tight. He didn't want to hear this. Didn't want to think about the distance between him and Armand. The empty look to his eyes as he'd pulled away from their kiss, knowing that he wasn't truly there with him. The glossy look to Armand's beautiful eyes as Louis pressed a soft kiss to his chin.
The careful, almost methodical way he'd undressed for Louis. His gentle hands as he caressed his back, never scratching him with his nails, never pressing harder than necessary. The kisses almost perfunctory, nearly chaste. Knowing all the while it wasn't really him Louis was thinking about.
Louis didn't think of him as he'd pressed open mouth kisses to his neck. Didn't think of him as he whispered sweet words to him, as Armand spread him out on the bed, as he pressed into the space between his legs. It wasn't him that had the blood rushing through his veins. Saw exactly who it was as he pulled away and made his excuse about the staff.
The worst part of it all? Louis felt relieved when he left.
He opened his eyes to look at Lestat again. The soft, knowing smile on his face as he shifted forward to lean his elbows on his knees.
“Such a shame. I don't think we ever had that problem.”
“Shut up.” Louis croaked.
Lestat laughed.
Louis closed his eyes again, trying to block out the vision. He took deep, steadying breaths, trying to push away the shame that had begun building even before Armand had left. The sun called to him, the urge to sleep muffling everything around him. He leaned into it, trying to call the sleep to himself. He relaxed, going limp, willing sleep to take over.
“Well, we both know that's not going to work.” Lestat said.
Louis started as he felt the bed dip with his weight. Lestat was now sitting on the edge of the bed. Louis looked up at him, fought the urge to reach out to run his fingers through his golden curls. Lestat leaned back on his hands, his back arched over Louis' knees. That smug smile had never left his face.
“Do you want to know why it'll never work?”
Louis sighed, settling in to watch the curve of his face as he spoke. The soft sweep of his nose, the feathery golden lashes as he leaned in as if he were going to whisper something to him.
“Why.” Louis said flatly.
The smile grew cruel. He watched as his sky blue eyes darkened, his brows furrowed. The dim light seemed to catch in his hair – Lestat seemed to pull it into himself, it made the vision of him all that more clear, more solid. The light gathered in his hair and his eyes, and they gave off a strange luminescence.
“We're tied together.” Here he lifted a hand, running the broad palm over Louis' bare arm.
Louis' skin prickled with the sensation. The hairs over every inch of his body rose in response, a chill working its way through him. He shivered as Lestat leaned closer to him, his breath ghosting over his cheek.
“You'll never be rid of me, mon cher.”
The vision of Lestat was leaning over him now, his chest pressed to his upper arm. He was so close now. Close enough to feel the soft tickle of his lips on his cheek as Lestat spoke.
“No one else. No one else can light that fire for you, ever again.”
Louis shook underneath him. He'd closed his eyes to the presence. He turned his face into his pillow, away from Lestat. He couldn't hear this right now. Didn't want to hear it, the truth as it came from his lips. It wasn't something he didn't already know. He knew, had been faced with the fact for the past seventy six years.
Knew that the only person that could inspire desire in him any longer, that could chase away the loneliness that had consumed him, was long gone. Missing, sleeping, deserted him, perhaps even dead. Lestat was long gone. Louis had done his best to purge him from his mind, his soul, but Lestat's presence could never be exorcised from him. No matter how badly Armand tried, how dedicated he was to replacing Lestat, to healing the rift that had grown inside of Louis since Paris.
All the gentle affirmations, the coaxing, the tenderness in the world could never replace what Lestat had been – still was, to him. Plastic to crystal, carbon against diamonds, a spotlight lit against the darkness, pretending to be the sun.
“Don't you wish you'd never met him?” Lestat hissed, his mouth pressed against Louis' ear.
The weight of Lestat vanished. Louis couldn't sense him anymore, he was alone in the room, completely alone. He curled into himself, his face smashed into the pillow, fighting the tremors that shook him. His arms ached from where he had rolled to lay on top of them. His knees pressed into the silk sheets, the texture almost rough against his skin.
The battle he had been fighting with the sun was finally over. Sleep had him in his clutches. The darkness pulled at his mind, his thoughts becoming blissfully incoherent, nonsensical. He hadn't realized he was crying until he felt the tears drying against his face, tacky and cold.