Despite 30 hours of no sleep at all, the various mood altering chemicals keeping his brain active enough to stay on his feet, the internal collapse of feeling himself being held at homoerotic arm's length from the love of his unlife, only half-fucked and running about twenty-five minutes behind schedule, Louis says he will be on the floor and Lestat's expression lights up.
Amusement, yes, for Louis to want to wade into the indignity of the mass audience, but also honest delight, and even more so. Louis close, Louis dancing, Louis having dressed up for the occasion, he sees now.
"Really," he says, hands settling warmer where his fingers had lingered. "Then I shall remember to look for you."
How had Louis forgotten the way Lestat tended to light up for even the littlest things? Familiar now, but Louis doesn't know if he would have remembered it before this moment.
He doesn't want to make Lestat tell him to leave.
Louis takes his face in his hands, smiling a little in response to the look on Lestat's face. Draws him in to kiss his cheek, a stolen liberty before their parting.
"Give me your best," Louis tells him, a minor challenge. Inconsequential. Louis doesn't think Lestat gives anything less than his best any time he is performing. "I came for a show."
He came for Lestat. The show is just—
It is the means by which Louis can excuse his presence. Wedge himself into the sphere of Lestat's life for a night or two. His fingers stroke lightly across Lestat's cheeks before Louis lets go, steps backwards towards the door.
Perhaps one day when they come together again like this, Lestat will feel something less than thirty thousand different emotions over the course of the meeting, each one as intense as the other. But it is nice that as they part, it is something like elation, affection. The drugs help, probably, as this warmth flushes out of his system the tangled, fretful feelings he'd been tending to prior.
Finally, they part. A man with a clipboard will guide Louis away. Lestat hauls his assistants in from the band's room so they can make something of his hair and makeup. A rare occurrence, but he has little time left, and he wishes to give Louis his best.
Forty minutes past when the show was set to begin—
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Amusement, yes, for Louis to want to wade into the indignity of the mass audience, but also honest delight, and even more so. Louis close, Louis dancing, Louis having dressed up for the occasion, he sees now.
"Really," he says, hands settling warmer where his fingers had lingered. "Then I shall remember to look for you."
no subject
He doesn't want to make Lestat tell him to leave.
Louis takes his face in his hands, smiling a little in response to the look on Lestat's face. Draws him in to kiss his cheek, a stolen liberty before their parting.
"Give me your best," Louis tells him, a minor challenge. Inconsequential. Louis doesn't think Lestat gives anything less than his best any time he is performing. "I came for a show."
He came for Lestat. The show is just—
It is the means by which Louis can excuse his presence. Wedge himself into the sphere of Lestat's life for a night or two. His fingers stroke lightly across Lestat's cheeks before Louis lets go, steps backwards towards the door.
no subject
Finally, they part. A man with a clipboard will guide Louis away. Lestat hauls his assistants in from the band's room so they can make something of his hair and makeup. A rare occurrence, but he has little time left, and he wishes to give Louis his best.
Forty minutes past when the show was set to begin—
Well, he can make it worth the wait.