An unfair question, unasked, that would have offered an unfair answer; best to paper over it. Daniel does and he doesn't get it. What he gets, he gets because Louis told him, and he's choosing empathy, and he's prioritizing how much he cares for Louis. Twenty-year-old Daniel wouldn't have gotten it, or worse, he'd be split down the middle with not getting it and deliberately bulldozing past it because who the fuck cares, think about all the cool shit you're missing by hesitating. And part of that is still there. It's behind him, but it's still him. Like he used to be a student, like he used to work at a newspaper, and so on.

He gets it. Because he wants to get it. He doesn't want to be the person who encourages Louis off the cliff edge because he's curious about what's on the other side, doesn't want to enable him into hurting himself more just to find fulfillment. Even though he's also, still, the person who will go home with some guy he just met in a bar, get high, ask to see the fangs again, give the creature who tortured him a key to his apartment, ask to be threatened with immolation so he knows what pyrokinesis feels like.

The L-word (is it lesbians?), lurking, sitting on both of their shoulders. Being here forever, with each other. Daniel is glad it was Armand, so he can talk to Louis anywhere, at any time. Daniel is angry it was Armand, because he knows how fucking bad it hurt Louis.

"You definitely don't want another book," he teases softly. Shifts their hands a bit as Louis turns, so he can squeeze his. Feels really good not to be trembling.

"As many lifetimes as we can get. Let's just... go to some shitty theaters, check out up and coming artists, waste time."