But it would be unfair. Daniel saved him. It's not Daniel's task to bear all the ways Louis is alien to himself now, an overgrown garden, a structure fallen into disrepair. Louis needs to tear it all apart, see what fits into his body and what must be burned. Inventory what's missing. (Impossible, unless he seeks Armand, coaxes him into honest generosity.) Become something recognizable to himself, before he can be anything to anyone but especially before he can be something to Lestat if Lestat will still have him.
Thinks, not for the first time, that he's overstayed his welcome. Become a burden. Daniel says this and Louis feels his assurances like smoldering coals in his chest. Important. They are important to each other.
Louis can't say the words he feels warming in his body in response, even if they're true. (Because they are true, and so important, too big for his body and this moment and the room they're in and maybe the state of Vermont.) But he feels it. Love. Tightens his grip on Daniel's hand, considers that he can't even promise happiness, not really. They both know Louis isn't exactly built for happiness, not in any kind of lasting way.
"You make me happy," is what Louis can offer. "You being here with me, forever, that makes me happy."
Years passing by and Daniel untouched by that passage. Decades to do more of this, smoking joints, watching bad movies. Talking, about everything and anything. Annoying, but Daniel has permission to annoy Louis however, whenever he wants. Why would Louis ever deny him?
"Another two hundred years, right?" he reminds, soft. "Another book, another couple lifetimes."
Big promises. Reasons for Louis to keep on living.
The silky fabric of the pillowcase whispers as Louis turns his head further, direct eye contact, so Louis can relay to him: "You're important to me. Always have been. Always gonna be."
Whatever doubts Daniel has about it. Louis chose him. Daniel had been a light in the dark, even then.
"I'm okay. We're gonna be okay."
A quiet offering. Louis' alright. Holding together. It won't be such an effort forever.
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But it would be unfair. Daniel saved him. It's not Daniel's task to bear all the ways Louis is alien to himself now, an overgrown garden, a structure fallen into disrepair. Louis needs to tear it all apart, see what fits into his body and what must be burned. Inventory what's missing. (Impossible, unless he seeks Armand, coaxes him into honest generosity.) Become something recognizable to himself, before he can be anything to anyone but especially before he can be something to Lestat if Lestat will still have him.
Thinks, not for the first time, that he's overstayed his welcome. Become a burden. Daniel says this and Louis feels his assurances like smoldering coals in his chest. Important. They are important to each other.
Louis can't say the words he feels warming in his body in response, even if they're true. (Because they are true, and so important, too big for his body and this moment and the room they're in and maybe the state of Vermont.) But he feels it. Love. Tightens his grip on Daniel's hand, considers that he can't even promise happiness, not really. They both know Louis isn't exactly built for happiness, not in any kind of lasting way.
"You make me happy," is what Louis can offer. "You being here with me, forever, that makes me happy."
Years passing by and Daniel untouched by that passage. Decades to do more of this, smoking joints, watching bad movies. Talking, about everything and anything. Annoying, but Daniel has permission to annoy Louis however, whenever he wants. Why would Louis ever deny him?
"Another two hundred years, right?" he reminds, soft. "Another book, another couple lifetimes."
Big promises. Reasons for Louis to keep on living.
The silky fabric of the pillowcase whispers as Louis turns his head further, direct eye contact, so Louis can relay to him: "You're important to me. Always have been. Always gonna be."
Whatever doubts Daniel has about it. Louis chose him. Daniel had been a light in the dark, even then.
"I'm okay. We're gonna be okay."
A quiet offering. Louis' alright. Holding together. It won't be such an effort forever.