Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You’re in my head. 

I had plans for the weekend

but wound up with you again

“So I was thinking,” Antoinette’s sultry voice purred beside Lestat. “My place is ten minutes away. Let’s ditch everyone and have a bit of fun on our own?”

Lestat rolled his eyes, checking his phone again for the third time that very minute. “Sounds nice baby,” he replied mindlessly. Still no messages.

They were in a party together, in an eccentric looking apartment. The walls were plastered with vintage movie posters, some framed some taped up with yellowing scotch tapes. A bright neon sign stating ‘OPEN 24 HRS’ of an old diner hanging by the mantle basking the room in an eerie red and pink glow. The coffee table was a cluttered mess of cigarette butts, red cups, and even an ashtray in the shape of a face with an exaggeratedly large nose. Sam Barclay does have an odd taste when it comes to furniture.

Lestat lounged on one of the rough, threadbare brown couches, legs spread wide, taking up more space than necessary. A red cup dangled from one hand, his phone glued to the other. Antoinette was curled around him, practically draped over his arm, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his sleeve. Every now and then, she nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder, trying to demand a fraction of his attention.

Any other night, he might have indulged. He might have been at the center of a legendary beer pong game, charming half the room just for fun. But not tonight.

He checked his phone again.

Still nothing.

Antoinette exhaled dramatically. “Lestat? Helloooo , still with me baby?”

“Yeah sure,” said Lestat. He then unlocked his phone, again , to hover his finger over the messages app.

Antoinette snatched the cup from Lestat’s hand, and he let her. His fingers simply curled tighter around his phone instead. 

“I’m thinking of buying myself some Prada. Your daddy’s plastic of course. You’d buy that for me, won’t you?” snarled Antoinette.

“You’re right honey, you’re so pretty,” Lestat said turning his face away from Antoinette’s direction. This time he’s rereading his messages to Louis. What is taking him so long?

Antoinette narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh, great. Also, do you think I should get a pet monkey? I’ve always wanted one.”

“Yeah, sure,” Lestat murmured, scrolling through his messages.

Antoinette blinked. “Lestat. A monkey .”

“Yeah, sure,” he repeated.

She stared at him, unimpressed. “Unbelievable.”

Then—

A bubble appeared on his screen. Louis was typing.

Lestat sat up so fast that Antoinette nearly toppled over, her grip on his arm slipping as he yanked himself forward, elbows on his knees, phone held up like it was gospel.

A grin spread across Lestat’s face.

Antoinette scowled. “What the hell is so interesting on your—”

Lestat started typing.

He hit send, pocketing his phone like nothing had happened. He finally turned back to Antoinette, flashing his signature smile. “Sorry, baby. I promise you have my full attention now, ma cherie. I just got carried away making plans for tomorrow.”

Antoinette’s expression soured. “Making plans? For tomorrow?”

“Yes? Why, my love, is there anything wrong with tomorrow?” Lestat stretched his arms, leaning back into the couch, utterly unbothered.

“Is there anything wrong with—” Antoinette cut herself off to angrily huff from her nose. “We have plans for tomorrow. Tickets. To the theatre. Tomorrow. Then after, we have reservations at the Elephant Bistro tomorrow, where you promised to meet my friends tomorrow. TOMORROW.”

Lestat can only shrug. “I’m sorry?”

“Sorry? SORRY?” Antoinette stood up, smoke practically fuming out of her ears. “SORRY? We had this planned for almost a month and you just ditched me? My friends are flying to the city and you’re just not gonna meet them? YOU’LL EMBARRASS ME LIKE THAT?”

Lestat looked away. He cannot stomach ugly sights. “I’ll still pay for dinner. You can even order those overpriced pretty cocktails. Just tell them something came up that I can’t join.”

“Something? Or someone ?” Her voice dripped with venom. “Is this ‘friend’ of yours Louis? The fucking high schooler? ”

Now this got Lestat’s attention. “He’s starting here by fall.” Lestat’s jaw tensed, just a fraction, before he scoffed. “Don’t you fucking talk to him like that.”

Antoinette scoffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, fantastic. You’re ditching me for a child.”

Lestat rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose. “He’s not a child. He’s just a fucking year below us, Antoinette.”

Antoinette, furious, began spewing nonsense. Half insults, half jealous rambling. Something about how Louis had him wrapped around his little finger, how ridiculous Lestat was being, how he was supposed to be with her tomorrow. Or how Lestat was supposed to keep promises he made.

Lestat barely heard any of it. It’s not his fault. There was a seat sale last weekend, his and Louis’s schedule were all clear, so it was a no brainer. Lestat’s mind was already elsewhere, on tomorrow morning, on Louis, on their itinerary that Lestat had already long drafted.

He couldn’t wait.

Antoinette let out a sharp breath, her hands curling into fists at her sides. The music blared on drowning their shouts, or at least, Antoinette’s shouts as Lestat half heartedly replies to her. “You know, I don’t get you,” she said, voice trembling. “You chased me, Lestat. You said you want me by your side. You bombard me with gifts, with flowers, and with all these dates. You made me feel special and now we’re together it’s like I don’t even exist to you.”

Lestat blinked, finally looking at her, but she wasn’t done.

“And now?” She let out a bitter laugh. “Now I can’t even get you to look at me unless I rip that damn phone out of your hands. When did I become so disposable to you? When did I became second place to you?”

“Not disposable, ma cherie ,” sweet talked Lestat. He grabbed the fists on her side and kissed both of her knuckles. Her expression turning soft. “I apologize, I am not being a good boyfriend to you. I will make it up to you after, I just need to tour Louis around the campus tomorrow.”

Antoinette's gaze hardened. “Tour? Don’t they already have the upcoming freshman tour fucking months ago?”

“Oui, but this tour is a special tour. A tour about my favorite spots in the city and the places to avoid the campus, none of the suck ass campus-approved tours that only talk about boring history and facilities. A real tour of real places, like where is the best burger spot, the best bar, and which building has the best restroom for hookups.”

“Let me get this straight,” Antoinette placed a distance between them. “You’re ditching me, you’re ditching my friends, to tour Louis to see the best hookup spot in campus? You can take him to this stupid tour anytime, you know, when he finally starts in UCLA? Does it really have to happen tomorrow?”

Lestat raised his brow. He just said exactly that, why is Antoinette turning into a parrot?

“You know what, this is it.” Antoinette looked indignant. “Lestat, I need you to get serious. Remember when you told me you were serious with me? That we’re now exclusive together?”

After months of begging on her side, yes. He had pursued her relentlessly and then got mad he wanted variety. It was just sex with other people, and she was his girlfriend. God, why does she keep on asking for more?

“I need you to choose. I’m not like others,” she coughed even though she didn’t need to. “I’m not like other girls who will come between your friendships. I don’t want to be those jealous girlfriends who wants to police your time. I just need you to reschedule tomorrow. Or else…”

“Or else what?” Lestat challenged her.

“Or else we’re done. We’re over. I’m dumping your ass forever.” Antoinette looked straight into his eyes. Begging, pleading. Fight for me, her eyes said. “I just… need you tomorrow . You can have the next hundred days with him if you want, but just this once, but for just one day—can’t you choose me?”

Her face practically had lost all its blood with the way she looked so pale right now. Her hands curled into an even tighter fists at her sides, her eyes searching for his, like she’s searching for an answer. An answer that she would like to hear, anyway. And for a second, Lestat can’t help but remember their past. Meeting her in the karaoke bar, being enraptured by her voice. How he had chased her and having bouquets delivered to the retail shop she worked at. The way she will hold onto every word of his whispered promises.

Lestat can’t help but remember how good they were together. Voices melding around together whenever they sang, and of course their late night activities.

He placed his hands on either side of Antoinette’s face, brushing his thumbs and wiping away the tears that was gathering near her eyes. The faint glow of red and pink basking her beautifully.  “Oh my sweet darling, is that even a question?” Antoinette’s eyes sparkled, gazing at his eyes back lovingly…

Tomorrow morning Lestat found himself in the airport, holding a little sign with the words ‘ST. LOUIS’ on it written in thick black sharpie. He barely had time to smirk before Louis appeared from the arrivals, curls slightly disheveled, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. The moment their eyes met, it was instinct, Louis took off running, and Lestat barely had a second to brace himself before Louis crashed into him.

Lestat caught him so easily, laughing as he stumbled back a step, arms tightening around Louis’s waist. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” huffed Louis, breathless. His face buried into the crook of Lestat’s neck, his breaths tickling him. “I can’t believe we’re in the same city again. It was hell being apart from you.”

“And we never have to part again,” said Lestat. “Now that you’re going to UCLA, there’s no need for any more painful goodbyes," Lestat finished, his voice teasing but warm. He pulled back just enough to look at Louis properly, hands still firm on his waist, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. “Now, come on. We have an entire city to conquer. Are you hungry?. I happen to  know where the best burgers are in town.”

Louis then looked around, a puzzled expression on his face. “Is it just you? I thought you’d be bringing your, uh, girlfriend around.”

Lestat grinned. “Girlfriend? What girlfriend?” Lestat can’t help but laugh. “There is none, mon ami. Come on, I have an entire day planned.”

———

You and I go back to like, ‘09, it’s like forever

And you were there on my lonely nights, keeping me together

Lestat was twelve years old when his mother had finally had enough. One night, she packed their bags, left his father behind. His six older brothers didn’t follow. Most had already moved out for work or college, while the two closest to his age chose to stay with their father in the huge mansion and private schooling. What surprised Lestat was not just them moving out, but rather them moving out of the country and into a town in New Orleans. It was for a fresh start, Gabrielle had claimed. She had visited there for a total of one time, and she can’t get the place out of her head and its all reason she needs to uproot Lestat from his home country and into New Orleans.

Their new home was a modest two-bedroom bungalow, just big enough for him and his mother. A small flower patch thrived outside, tended to by Gabrielle, while Lestat spent his time biking aimlessly through the unfamiliar streets. Moving to a new neighborhood was daunting, moving to a new country was daunting, and moving to a town that barely speaks his mother tongue was terrifying. He hadn’t loved the empty halls of their old house, nor the constant shouting that echoed through them, but at least back home, he had his friends. 

Now, he had no one. Life was more peaceful, quieter and even more comforting, but this was the loneliest summer that Lestat had ever had. Gabrielle seemed worried about how quiet Lestat had been, but Lestat assures her he’s fine. Once school comes around, Lestat is pretty sure he can make friends again in no time. Once school starts, he’d make friends. He’d settle in. He’d feel better. Probably.

And then, in the very last week of summer, just before he would have had to face a new school alone, Lestat met him.

Louis de Pointe du Lac.

And suddenly, the worst summer of his life didn’t seem so bad after all.

He met Louis when he was biking by the streets of his neighborhood. He was making rounds in the richer part of the neighborhood when he saw two brothers fighting. Lestat had been fascinated, and so when Paul had took off crying, Lestat cannot help but approach Louis with his broken English and thick French accent. Louis knew how to speak French, his diction could be better but Lestat no longer has to take minutes and translate everything in his brain just to talk to someone. It was exhilarating, he finally found someone that will make New Orleans his home.

Sometimes, just for fun, they would switch things up. Lestat would speak in English, and Louis would respond in French, each correcting the other with barely concealed amusement. They both sounded absolutely ridiculous half the time, and once, when Lestat had asked Louis if he wanted to bike to the park, Louis had confidently responded with “Je suis une bicyclette. ” Lestat nearly fell off his own.

When they realized they were going to the same school, it felt like fate. Lestat was a year ahead, but that didn’t seem to matter. They made plans about running the school together, about skipping class to loiter in bookstores, about walking home together after. Lestat, who had dreaded the idea of starting over in a new place, suddenly found himself looking forward to it. And Louis, who seemed so guarded when they first met, smiled. A real smile. Like he was just as excited as Lestat was.

—

And before he knew it, Lestat was no longer a preteen. The years can pass by, and he never felt lonely with Louis on his side.

—

“Where do you want to study, after high school?” Louis brought up one time. He was seventeen, Louis was sixteen. And yet they were both in the backyard of Louis’s home, with a tent propped up only using their glow sticks and flashlights as their light source, piles and piles of blankets creating a makeshift fort. It feels like they were kids again, as they have done this many times before.

Except this time instead of soda, they had cans of beer between them. Louis only drank half a can of flavored beer, not really liking the taste, while Lestat already had three cans and is already reaching out to drink the remaining half of Louis’s. Disposing the cans and keeping it away from the eyes of Florence will be a problem they’ll have tomorrow.

But nonetheless it was familiar, laying right next to each other, Lestat felt warm and it’s not just because of the blankets or the fact that there was body heat near him. Lestat always feels warm beside Louis.

“ J’sais pas , maybe somewhere far?” replied Lestat. He felt the movement beside him, Louis shifting. Lestat turned to his side and he faced Louis's dark eyes. In the dark, the flashlight illuminated his eyes enough to make it seem like its sparkling on its own, as if it had its very own personal galaxy all for Lestat to witness. “My mother, I have an inkling she needs more space. I am grateful she took care of me, but I have a feeling she craves independence and freedom.”

Lestat also craves the same thing. He hated feeling grounded. He loves New Orleans and she shall be his home, but there was still much to see and to experience.

“Me too,” whispered Louis, much to the surprise of Lestat.

“With the way you’re very protective of Paul and Grace, I would have thought you’d struggle leaving,” chuckled Lestat.

Louis buried himself further into his blanket, bunching it up a bunch by his hands, hiding his face. “I’ve thought about it. I love Gracie, Paul,” then a brief hesitation. “ Mama , but if I want to be myself, I need to leave.”

There was a stray lash on Louis’s cheek. Lestat reached out, using two of his fingers softly trying to take it gently. Louis’s eyes fluttered into a close, almost by instinct. Once Lestat got it, he blew it off from the other side, he turned to Louis again.

“And who will you be, once you leave home?” Lestat challenged, watching Louis carefully. Louis shifted his head in thought..

Lestat knew that Louis had been hiding something. Or at least, what was it he’s trying to hide from Lestat, from his family, from everyone in his church. Everyone knew. Florence had countless snarky comments, about Lestat’s painted nails or his flamboyant outfits and how Lestat had been a terrible influence towards Louis turning him to the ‘sinful’ path despite Louis never really dressing himself flashily, keeping his head down always like a perfect son. 

Paul knew too, slipping scripture into conversation like a warning, his words wrapped in forced casualness— be fruitful and multiply —as if it wasn’t meant to land like a stone between them. 

And Grace… Grace knew in the way only a sister could. In the way she never joined in, never piled on, in the way she’d roll her eyes at their mother and change the subject with a well-placed joke. In the way she’d nudge Louis under the dinner table and mutter, "I don’t think Lestat is a bad influence at all." A quiet reassurance, a silent promise that she saw him and didn’t care. The way she says, Louis if you get a partner please let me meet them.

And of course, Lestat knew. But as long as Louis never said it out loud, Lestat would never force him to. Louis deserved patience. He deserved the right to decide when—and if—he was ready to say it.

Louis then smiled at him. It was the kind of smile that had Lestat breathless for some reason. The kind of smile Lestat swore he’ll do anything to keep it there forever. 

“I’ll find out when I get there.”

———

It was prom night when he finally told Lestat the truth. Louis went alone, Lestat was supposed to go with Nicki, except they broke up the night before prom. He didn’t care to get a new date, and instead sat on the bleachers all night, glowering and stewing in his own misery, with Louis beside him, in a different kind of mystery.

He got together with Nicki almost exactly a year ago. Lestat asked Nicki out on a date a few weeks before their very own Junior prom. And with almost a year together, Lestat had it all planned. They’ll go to Columbia University together, and if they can find a small apartment and live together. But Nicki changed his mind. Felt overwhelmed just by how much of a commitment Lestat can give. Overwhelmed that it felt like Lestat was dictating Nicki’s life for him. So he dumped him and accepted the offer to study in the UK. Nicki did not even attend prom.

And so, Lestat was moping.

Beside him, Louis idly pushed his dry mashed potatoes and mozzarella sticks he had long mangled up in boredom, moving all of them around his paper plate, his fork scraping against the flimsy surface in slow, absentminded motions. He wasn’t eating. Hadn’t eaten anything all night, actually. Lestat, on the other hand, had made several trips to the dessert table. In the past hour alone, he had inhaled four cupcakes and three cookies, enough to earn a few pointed glares from the chaperones, not that he cared.

Students were dancing on the floor to some remixed pop song they got off of Youtube. Some were jumping on the balls of their feet, while some were just running in circles with their friends. Others darted through the crowd, weaving in and out in reckless circles, high on nothing but energy and bad fruit punch. Some couples clung to one another, half-dancing, half-dragging each other along, caught between trying to move with the beat and simply not tripping over their own feet.

And suddenly Hungry Eyes started playing. The energy of the room shifted, laughter turning into knowing glances. Groups broke off into pairs. Couples who had been sulking on the bleachers slowly made their way to the dance floor. Those already dancing inched closer, hands finding shoulders, waists, fingertips grazing shyly over fabric.

Lestat sighed. He had requested this song. Weeks ago, he had gone out of his way to ask someone on the prom committee to add it to the playlist. For him and Nicki. Dirty Dancing had been their movie—one of their favorites. This was supposed to be their moment.

But he’s not with Nicki. Not anymore. And if Lestat’s being honest, probably never again with the way they wanted such different things.

And it's a damn good song to waste.

“Do you want to dance?” he asked Louis. His tone was light, almost teasing.

 Louis had then turned his head towards Lestat, placing his paper plate of mutilated food aside. His face had a bewildered expression, as if he was never expecting Lestat to ask at all. “Right now?”

“I know you love to dance,” Lestat said easily. He really did. Louis danced in church on Sundays, movements measured, precise, reverent. Tap dancing to get some extra bills he and Paul could spend in the local arcade. When Grace was younger, he’d spin her around their living room, indulging her when she wanted to pretend she was a Disney princess. They’d do dances together as the movies do, pretending their living room was one huge ballroom. Lestat had seen it all himself. The way Louis could move, could carry himself, could lose himself in it if he let go. 

Lestat stretched a hand toward him. “Come on, dance with me.”

Louis blinked at him, his fingers gently drumming his pants, wiping sweat on it as if trying to stall. He then looked forward to the dance floor, full of couples. “Are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

“What would other people think?” Louis had asked gently, nervously flitting his gaze to Lestat’s and to the dance floor and to where the chaperones were standing.

“I don’t think they’d care. Besides, I already broke up with Nicki. Nothing wrong with dancing with my friend.”

Louis had then frowned at him. “That’s not what I mean, Lestat. What if they think I’m gay?”

Lestat titled his head, studying Louis carefully. Oh boy, he needs to thread carefully. Never mind the fact that there are some same sex couples currently on the dance floor. Not with the du Lac household that has rampant views and homophobia. “And?” Lestat asked. “Would that really be such a terrible thing?”

“No, but,” Louis had started. “I—I am gay… but what if people found out if I am?”

He hadn’t expected Louis to say it—not here, not now, in the middle of a crowded gymnasium with bad decorations and with a song he had planned to dance with his first love. And yet there he was, on the bleachers where his best friend had just come out to him.

Louis swallowed hard, glancing away like he regretted saying anything at all. "It’s just a year and a half," he muttered, more to himself than to Lestat. "I just have to make it through senior year, graduate, and then—" He exhaled sharply. "Then I can leave. Go to college. Be myself . But right now? I can’t Lestat. Not here, where everyone knows everybody.”

Lestat watched Louis carefully, noting the way his fingers curled into his pants like he was bracing himself for something terrible. Like the simple act of existing as himself, here, now, was a battle he wasn’t ready to fight. He exhaled through his nose, slow and measured, before shaking his head. “Mon Louis,” he said, tilting his head toward the dance floor. “It’s just a dance. Not a confession. Not a coming out party. Just two friends who don’t want to sit on these miserable bleachers all night.”

Louis’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering toward the swaying couples under dim gymnasium lights. "People will see."

"And?" Lestat countered, raising a brow. "They won’t care."

"Look," Lestat continued, voice softer now. "You see that guy over there? Dancing with his girlfriend like she’s the love of his life?"

Louis followed his gaze. A couple near the center of the floor swayed lazily, completely lost in their own little world.

"Yeah?"

"He was making out with some jock under the bleachers last week," Lestat smirked. "Trust me, people have better things to gossip about than us dancing like idiots for one song."

Louis let out something between a scoff and a laugh. "You’re lying."

"Am I?" Lestat grinned. "You’ll never know unless you get up and dance with me."

Louis hesitated for a moment longer, eyes scanning the room again like he was waiting for someone—Paul, Florence, God Himself ? To what? To appear and drag him away? But nothing happened. No one was looking. The world didn’t stop. All there was were Lestat’s outstretched hand, inviting him.

“Please? One song?” pleaded Lestat.

Louis sighed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stalling.”

Louis stared at him for a long second before finally, hesitantly, placing his hand in Lestat’s.

Lestat beamed, tugging him up with far too much enthusiasm, nearly making Louis stumble in the process. “There we go!”

"Jesus, Lestat, I swear —"

"Now, now, mon ami, it’s just a dance. Don’t overthink it." Lestat winked, placing a hand on Louis’s waist, guiding him effortlessly onto the dance floor.

And just like that, the tension in Louis’s shoulders loosened, just a fraction. Just enough to let himself be led. Just enough to realize that maybe, just maybe , Lestat was right.

Right there on the dance floor, they swayed as best they could. Lestat leading at first, trying to coax Louis into letting loose. And surely enough, Louis did. Soon, he was the one guiding them, moving with a confidence that made it easy for Lestat to follow. Lestat would dip Louis, and Louis would have Lestat twirled around. It was fun, just the two of them, everyone else be damned.

One song became two. Two became three. And before Lestat even realized it, the ache of Nicki’s absence had dulled, pushed aside by laughter, by movement, by this. Just this moment with Louis, the person that made New Orleans a home. The boy he had loved dearly, his bestest friend.

“Hey,” Lestat said suddenly, his voice cutting through the music. “You’ll  go to UCLA, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis blinked at him. “I mean, I will if I manage to get in—not that I was assuming I will. I mean, I still need to work hard for it and—” Louis coughed and cut himself off. “Why?”

Lestat grinned. “Well I did get in. How about I’ll wait for you there?”

“Are you serious?” asked Louis incredulously. He pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing. “What happened to Columbia? Wasn’t that always the dream? New York City and all that?”

It was the dream. At least, it had been yesterday, before Nicki ended things. Before the vision of sharing a tiny apartment in the city, late-night walks and Broadway shows, crumbled into nothing. Columbia had been their dream. His and Nicki’s.

But UCLA? That was something else entirely. 

It was Louis’s dream.

Lestat had applied on a whim, at first, when he found out Louis had set his sights on it. He had a handful of acceptance letters by now, but UCLA was the only one he hadn’t immediately dismissed. The knowledge that Louis wanted to go there was enough for him to hold on to it, despite the fact that Lestat had been pretty solid on the fact he’ll go to Columbia. Despite the fact that he had already told his classmates and friends, and even his father who was already ready to pay for his entire University life to make up for his absenteeism.

 He had kept the letter, tucked away, just in case.

As if some part of him already knew wherever Louis was going, he wanted to be there too.

And it was easy, to tell Louis this. When in fact him and Nicki had gone back and forth for which University they want to settle to.

“They have a nice music program as well. I can see myself thriving there,” Lestat said, the words rolling off his tongue with surprising ease. 

Louis still looked skeptical, his dark eyes searching Lestat’s face like he was trying to find the catch. “You’re really going to throw away Columbia for UCLA?”

Lestat huffed a laugh, spinning them both lazily in place. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m choosing something else.”

Louis shook his head, incredulous. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re ungrateful,” Lestat shot back, grinning. “I just told you I’m going to suffer through California traffic for you, and you’re questioning me?”

Louis let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I’m not questioning you. I just—” He hesitated for a moment, looking down at where their hands were still clasped together. “I guess I didn’t think you’d want to go there.”

“I didn’t,” Lestat admitted. Until you did. I won’t ever go there if you’re not there. So I’m placing my faith that you’ll get in there. “But now I do.”

Louis looked up at him then, his expression unreadable.

“Besides, it will be fun,” smirked Lestat. “My father’s paying for everything so we can get an apartment in the city. It’ll just be like old times too! All nighters in our rooms with half a dozen energy drinks. You’d probably end up needing way more than six cans of Monster since you really want to study biochemistry for some reason.” Lestat started listing off. It was this reason, why Nicki broke up with him. His plans for the future had made him queasy.

But Louis looked at him as if he was looking forward to this poorly dreamed up vision of the two of them. Lestat grinned and continued. “And when you’re finally yourself out there, out and about as queer as you can be, I need to set you up with as many dates as I can so you can finally have a boyfriend.”

Louis scoffed and rolled his eyes, he shoved Lestat lightly and playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“I am your best friend, it is in my job description and sole responsibility to make sure you will not die a virgin.”

“Lestat!”

———

But we say we’re just (say we're just—)

Friends, just for now

Come fall, Louis was officially a freshman, and Lestat a sophomore. They didn’t live together, as initially planned back in that night at prom. Lestat had roomed with Armand, another guy going to UCLA in his year. Armand had spent nearly a decade living in Paris before moving to the U.S., and while Lestat would never admit it outright, he was relieved to finally have someone who could speak French without butchering the accent (cough, Louis, cough).

Though Lestat won’t admit it, he had grown fond of Armand as his roommate.  He was meticulous, bordering on obsessive, with a sneaky personality that got other people to do their chores for them in a bribery of more food. But the strangest part about him is his deep fascination for kitchen appliances. Their shared kitchen was slowly being overtaken—two air fryers (one double-sized, one mini), three different blenders (a full 2-liter one, a blend-and-go, and another with a smaller cup), a Ninja Creami , a fucking juicer, a waffle maker, an icecream maker, a  sandwich maker, and god knows what else. Lestat had long given up trying to keep track. All these appliances and Lestat hadn’t even had any ice cream or waffles at home. Not one.

Almost every week there’s another large box from Amazon that Lestat knew would be where the newest addition to their kitchen is. The craziest part was despite the dozens of appliances in the kitchen, Armand only dines out or have food deliveries to their place.

Louis, on the other hand, had found a roommate through a Facebook group for incoming freshmen—a girl named Lily, who was also looking for an off-campus apartment that was a tad bit cheaper. Lestat had been skeptical at first, as he was fiercely protective of Louis. “Living with a stranger? I don’t care if she seems nice Louis, she could be a serial killer or something! You can’t trust people you met through Facebook!” Lestat had scolded him through their video call once.

On his screen, Louis simply raised his brow. “You met Armand through reddit, that’s even worse.”

Suffice to say Louis instantly won that argument.

Months pass by like a blur. Lestat and Louis may not have lived together but it surely didn’t feel like it. They see each other almost everyday. They try to have dinner almost every night, alternating between Lestat’s place, Louis’s or somewhere outside. They had their study sessions, usually in some library, Lestat with his laptop while Louis had his textbooks, sticky notes, highlighters and index cards.

 Sometimes Lestat will drive Louis to his part-time job, while Louis has a sizable trust allotted for his tuition and other allowances, he still wanted some extra pocket money to sustain some of his spending habits (for example, him purchasing a latte every morning instead of using his perfectly good coffee maker, or the fact that he has a rather expensive taste for clothing despite him only keeping a few understated pieces here and there). Louis works at a bookstore that sells new and used books as well as a few trinkets and collectibles. The place was cozy with their  wooden floors, rolling step ladders, and antique sofas. Lestat had also befriended the owner’s little tabby cat, he had enjoyed many afternoons curled up on one of the sofas of the store while Louis mingled with customers.

But Lestat’s favorite were their movie nights, especially during the weekends. They used to do it a lot back in highschool, but now they’re in the same city again it was easy to reinstate their old tradition. Lestat already had a projector set up in his room just for the two of them. A bowl of popcorn in between them and a too tall tumblr full of the cocktail that Lestat had concocted that night.

An hour into the movie, almost by instinct and familiarity, Louis would reach over to Lestat, press himself closer, and place his head on top of Lestat’s chest. Lestat will then idly wrap his arm around Louis, casually stroking his hair. Louis were always particular with his hair, but he would Lestat stroke them over. It’s comfortable when Lestat does it, Louis had claimed. And later on Louis would fall asleep on Lestat’s ministrations.

Lestat can’t seem to look away at Louis’s sleeping face.

Throughout the year, Lestat had dated here and there, but nothing quite as exclusive as Antoinette had been or as intense as what he’d had with Nicki. He had priorities—namely, making sure Louis’s freshman year was seamless, fun, and entirely under his chaotic influence. And for some reason, a lot of Lestat’s dates didn’t particularly like that. Nor did they appreciate the fact that, like clockwork, Lestat curled up with Louis for movie nights almost every weekend, limbs tangled in the laziest, most comfortable way possible. 

It probably didn’t help that Lestat refused to extend the invitation to any of his dates ever. Besides, not even Armand was invited to their movie nights, why would they think Lestat would invite any of them?

It was easy to break up what little Lestat had between them. If they cannot accept the fact that Louis was his best friend, he did not want to date them at all. The longest relationship he had after Atnoinette had been Rowan Fielding, who he had been seeing for three months. Rowan, later on, had the gall to ask Lestat to stop seeing Louis altogether. Lestat can only laugh at her outrageous request.

The drink thrown at his face wasn’t that funny though.

———

“Who’s that guy you were with last night?” Lestat had asked from his spot in the couch.

It was a Sunday. Lestat had nothing to do but scroll on social media. Armand, who also had nothing to do, had been vacuuming the living room the past hour. Armand had vacuumed practically zero dirt and simply enjoy doing the motions of vacuuming their living room.

“I was with plenty of guys last night,” said Armand. “Our whole class went out for drinks. You need to be more specific.”

“The one in the black tank top? The one with the Wolf cut. Multiple ear piercings?” Lestat said scrolling to Armand’s instagram and zooming into this guy. He wasn’t tagged or anything but his face was cluttered around many of Armand’s dump posts.

“Oh, you mean Isaac? Isaac Li?” Armand said absentmindedly, barely looking up.

Lestat immediately typed the name into the search bar. Sure enough, his profile showed up under recommended. It was him, alright, the same face, same sharp jawline. But his account was private, which meant Lestat couldn’t see a damn thing. But he can see his bio, and that rainbow flag is all he needed to know.

“Three questions,” Lestat said, still staring at his screen. “Are you two close? Is he single? And can you get him to approve my follow request?”

“Feet up,” Armand commanded. This was the fifth time Armand had vacuumed the spot where Lestat’s feet were planted. Lestat lifted his feet. Again. “Yes, yes, and no,” answered Armand simply.

Lestat shot up from his spot. “What? Why not?”

Armand placed a fist on his hip, judging Lestat. “He’s my groupmate for my final paper. So no, Lestat, you cannot date Isaac. At least not until I pass my class.”

“It’s not for me!” Lestat protested. “I want to set him up on a date with Louis.”

“That’s even worse!”

“How is that worse?”

Armand pinched the bridge of his nose like he was already regretting having this conversation. Then, he pointed a finger at Lestat. “Let’s look at the facts, shall we? You date someone for a few weeks—maybe—and then, surprise, either you get bored or they realize they can’t handle your weird, codependent, borderline insane relationship with Louis. So, what happens? They leave. They get mad. Productivity drops. My group project suffers. ”

Lestat opened his mouth to argue, but Armand held up a hand, silencing him.

“But when Louis dates someone?” Armand continued, voice getting dangerously close to a rant. “First, the poor guy falls madly in love with him—because of course he does, it's Louis. And then Louis continues to date them—for some reason—and then they think they have a chance. And then , inevitably, you convince Louis to dump him for some stupid reason. Like he chews too loudly or he wears the same hoodie twice in one week.”

“It's not that Alex wore the same hoodie, it's because he probably didn’t shower,” scoffed Lestat. And the loud chewer, some guy named Jericho, really really chewed loud. Louis did not deserve to be with a guy who chews like he’s having gravel for lunch.

Armand ignored him. “And of course, Louis believes you because why would his sweet angelic childhood friend Lestat the fucking whore Lioncourt lie to him, right? Louis dumps them. The guy is devastated. Do you know what heartbroken people do? They drop out of the class. Then I lose my groupmate. Which means I’m down one guy. I can’t do all the work alone, Lestat. Then I will fail my class.”

“That’s a bit of a slippery slope.”

“Oh, is it? Is that what you want , Lestat?” Armand threw his hands in the air. “Me failing my class? What’s next? I repeat the class? I repeat a year ? I never graduate? You want me to die at UCLA, Lestat? Is that your end goal? To trap me here forever, doomed to an eternity of undergrad suffering? Well, congrats, because that’s exactly what will happen if you set Isaac up with Louis!” Armand was now stomping angrily.

Lestat shrugged his shoulders. He received a notification. “Oh look, he accepted my request.”

Isaac Li had only six  photos on his profile. One photo was of him in the night, a blurry photo of him that is much more for aesthetics. One photo with his side profile and a white muscle tee, showcasing a tattoo on his shoulder and his piercings on his ear. Two photos of his dog, a doberman with a chain as his leash. Another one where he’s in some artsy cafe, wearing a vest and blue long sleeved polo underneath.

He also had a photo in front of his car—a black range rover. Okay good, it means he has some money. He will never let Louis date a broke guy.

Lestat sent him a message.

Armand’s eye twitched at the sight of Lestat typing on his phone. “Lestat,” he snarled.

“You’re just being dramatic, Armand. I don’t even know if he’ll want to date Louis.”

“Please, who wouldn’t date Louis? Except you, for some god damn reason. If I’m not dating Daniel, I would have asked him out the first time I saw him."

This time Lestat scoffed. “You? Date Louis? Please. I will murder you before you place your hands on him.”

“I don’t even know why you set him up on dates when you’re this possessive. Is it an ego thing? Or just pride? Some sick notion where you still think you and Louis are just friends?” demanded Armand. Isaac had just sent a reply, Lestat smirked.

“Because we are,” said Lestat, typing his next message to Isaac. “Just friends.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

———

Thirty minutes.

That’s how long Lestat had been waiting for Louis. Thirty minutes. Lestat hated being early, but he hates being late more, so he makes it a point to be always on time or the very least five minutes early. Louis knew this pet peeve of his, so where was he?

They were supposed to meet for brunch at a diner near Louis’s work. It was another one of their traditions, kind of. It was rare for them to have the mornings off, with Lestat usually nursing a hangover or sleeping in (if he didn’t have any morning classes). As for Louis, on some days he would either have work, have to do some studying, or something else.

Lestat groaned and rested his head on top of the table. He just wants Louis to be right here in this instant. Was that too much to ask? He groaned out loud. If he can keep Louis in his own pocket, he would.

“Lestat?” said Louis, his familiar voice a beautiful melody Lestat almost thought he only dreamed of it.

When Lestat raised his head to greet Louis he was—

Louis was—

His throat felt so dry. Is Louis wearing a—

“S-skirt? You’re wearing a skirt?”

Louis was wearing a faded burnt umber A-line skirt, soft cotton with double-layered pleats that moved when he shifted. The skirt ends just a few inches below his knees. A black nylon button-up, slightly tucked in at the waist. He also wore a deep maroon corduroy jacket and black leather Doc Martens, completing his look. There was a small gap in between, where Lestat can see his skin in between the skirt’s seams and leather boots. Where Lestat can see his calves—

Nope. Absolutely not. That is Lestat’s best friend. Where was his mind even going?

He had seen Louis in shorts, his khaki ones that he wore for church in Sundays. He had seen Louis wearing something above the knee, but why was Lestat acting this way? For a small sliver of skin in between the end of his boots and the seams of his—his beautiful flowy skirt?

As a reaction to Lestat’s, frankly embarrassing, stuttering, Louis had looked away. “Yeah… Is that okay?”

Lestat swallowed a lump that’s stuck on his throat, trying desperately to reboot his brain and to have his eyes stop wandering to Louis's figure. “O-okay? Louis, you look really–Wow. It’s very—uh, wow a skirt. Since when have you been wearing skirts? When did you finally change your wardrobe? When did you buy this?”

Louis slid into the booth across from him, he still looked nervous and completely oblivious to how Lestat’s world and very axis had been thrown out of proportions. “There was a buy one, get one sale at the mall when I was out shopping with Lily.” He exhaled, drumming his fingers against the table. “I’ve always been secure in my masculinity. I know how to dress, how to present myself. I do enjoy it, buying clothes and wearing clothes, dressing well—it’s not just about looking straight for my mom or her churchmates. I like being creative with men’s fashion, with how limited our selection could be. But… But I’ve always wanted to explore my femininity too. So… when the opportunity presented itself…”

Lestat gulped.

Louis had just crossed his legs. With his high boots and long skirt, it’s not like you can see anything. But the sight of Louis’s calves got Lestat’s throat to even dry up even more. It was also the principle of it, or the mystery that makes the skirt hide even more of the figure, the way Lestat had to imagine or remember what Louis's legs looked like. 

Lestat signaled wildly at the waiter. “W-water. Please.”

“I, for one, think it suits you,” Lestat rasped out. He cleared his throat. “Like really good on you, Louis. It really suits you so well. It’s… neat.”

“Neat?” Louis looked a bit disappointed. “It took me three hours to gather the courage to wear this and all you got is neat?”

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

Oh, no, no, no, no.

No.

The waitress got back out with a pitcher of water, Lestat signalling even more wildly that he needed water. Urgently. She got to their table and poured Lestat a glass. She was in the middle of pouring for Louis’s glass when Lestat decided to down the whole glass and asked for an immediate refill. “It’s nice too. Nice. Very very nice.”

“So I got neat and nice,” sighed Louis, slumping his back against the booth.  “Lily said it was amazing and fits me perfectly. I guess I now know she’s just flattering me. Maybe I can still return it and—”

“No!” Lestat stood up, pounding on the table. This got the attention of other patrons. Lestat sat back down. “I mean—It looks really good on you. Louis you look—you look magnificent. Louis, I just understood what breathtaking meant when I saw you.” 

Louis blinked at Lestat’s outburst, clearly not expecting it. He tilted his head slightly, studying him with mild suspicion.

“…You really think so?”

Lestat scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Of course. Do you think I’d lie to you about fashion? Me? ”

Louis let out a short laugh. “No, I suppose not.”

“Exactly,” Lestat said smugly. “And anyway, you should wear skirts more often.”

Louis raised a brow. “Oh?”

Lestat gestured vaguely. “I mean, look at you. Stylish, effortless, debonair —I feel like I should be escorting you somewhere, not just having brunch. Pack up, let’s go somewhere else, my treat. You deserve more than just greasy bacon or pancakes.”

“Don’t be dramatic, here is fine Lestat. Let’s just eat.” Louis rolled his eyes but looked… pleased. His smile on his face was so wide, Lestat can see all his pearly white teeth and his crooked ones too. He looked so beautiful, and Lestat wasn’t lying when he said Louis looked breathless. But Louis smiling was enough to kill Lestat even in a good day. Louis picked up the menu, scanning the options, while Lestat watched him over the rim of his freshly refilled water glass. His throat still felt dry, but his palms felt extra sweaty.

And then—

“Do you think Isaac will like it later?”

Lestat choked.

Isaac? Who?

Oh. That Isaac. The one Lestat had spent an entire week convincing would be perfect for Louis. The one he had gone through painful lengths to set up on a date with Louis tonight. Hell, Lestat had helped Isaac get a reservation to some fancy lobster place Louis always wanted to try.

Lestat squinted. Yup. Definitely no. Not going to happen under my watch.

He set his glass down and sighed, feigning deep disappointment. “Louis, mon cher, I regret to inform you—I think I have to cancel the date.”

Louis furrowed his brows. “What? Why?”

Lestat shook his head solemnly. “Armand could have told me Isaac might have a long-distance boyfriend he may be hiding.”

So not a lie. Just a deceptive truth. It’s not gonna harm anyone either way! Isaac did look forward to it simply because he thought Louis was hot, but if Louis plans to wear a skirt tonight and his first date wearing a skirt is with Isaac, then Isaac must go. Frankly, Louis needs someone better than just an Isaac. 

The bar that he had set for Louis had already been astronomically high, according to other people (Armand, Daniel, Lily, Claudia, even Louis himself) but Lestat just realized it still wasn’t high enough.

Louis blinked. “Really? That’s a shame. He looked good in the photos you sent me.”

Lestat shrugged dramatically. “Well, what do you know? The hot ones are always taken, are assholes, or both.”

Louis hummed, setting the menu down. “There goes my plans for tonight.”

“Who says we can’t go out tonight?” Lestat simply grinned, snapping his own menu shut. “Just you and me, yes? Let’s just spend all day together, and then a sleepover. We can even buy you more skirts, shoes to match, maybe some accessories. Anything you want, Louis. We’ll do anything you want, I’ll buy anything you want.”

“Okay,” said Louis, grinning.“Okay. Deal.” Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, he added, “And just so you know, you’re going to regret saying that.”

Lestat smirked, leaning back in his seat. “You couldn’t make me regret it if you tried.”

Chapter Text

But once we cross the line, there's no denying

You and I can never turn around, 'round, 'round

Know we'll never be the same

As promised, Lestat and Louis decided to spend the entire day together. This was uncharted territory for Louis, examining himself and his femininity. It wasn’t just the two of them shopping for skirts that looked right, but felt right for Louis. 

Lestat could only offer so much advice, seeing that his journey with gender expression had never been a struggle. Unlike Louis who seemed like he was beginning a brand new journey for himself, in Lestat’s case there had never been a journey at all—he simply wore what he wanted or what he thought looked good without much thought, without the need to question whether it meant anything at all. If he liked something, he wore it. Simple.

So, in a way, he felt out of depth, talking with Louis. 

And that was the key difference between Louis and Lestat. There was a huge difference in how they see and approach fashion. For Lestat, its almost like a performance, or even an opportunity to have fun, to be loud, or to command attention. He would show up in a party donned in a sequined green suit, or a full tulle gown. On most days, however, Lestat tends to lean onto comfort, just throwing on whatever felt right. 

Louis was different. Clothes were never just clothes. When Lestat can go on autopilot to get ready and get dressed, for Louis dressing himself up was a manual activity where he dedicates an allotted time into it. Louis’s clothes were a shield, a front where he carefully builds up as a reflection of himself or the time. When he’s insecure, he would disappear behind crisp shirts, neutral tones, and pleated pants. When he’s happy, he would wear a cozy sweater, whites and yellows dancing across the yarn. When Louis ends up in a depressive move that could last for days, his clothes become devoid of any color or any style. Plain black hoodies, black sweats, black shoes.

Lestat didn’t know whether or not it was intentional, just a way for Louis to cope, but still Lestat understand it all the same. What Louis was wearing are not just clothes, but it was a language. And Lestat liked to think he was fluent on it.

It reminded Lestat of when Louis had just started putting on makeup. For Lestat, makeup is another way to have fun. Another accessory to compliment his outfit, something he’d wear in concerts or raves. One time a girl asked him if he puts on foundation or concealers everyday, he felt insulted then asked her "Do I look like I need that?" Suffice to say, the girl was shut up.

Makeup isn’t part of Lestat’s daily routine, but for Louis it is. It's not that Louis needed makeup, he looks good, pretty, with or without it. Louis liked the ritual of it, the getting ready, the routine of an elaborate skin care and the carefulness of layering each product on his face.

But still, feminine clothing on Louis was new. To both of them, in a way, to Louis—who just wore his first skirt—and for Lestat—who will bear witness to this new journey. This was like stumbling across a brand new set of words they are yet to understand the meaning of. And, like always, they would learn it together.

They were in the mall, shopping together as promised. Lestat was serious when he said he’ll pay for it (or rather, his father would pay for it, but Lestat has no qualms claiming the money as his own). Louis thought Lestat was just joking, insisting to pay for his shopping himself, but Lestat would not have any of it. Just two stores and five pieces of skirts after, Louis didn’t even bother to protest again because they were indeed expensive. He just stopped pretending he could pay for it on his own and went his merry way. Despite Lestat running his credit cards to its limits, Lestat would just happily smile at Louis while clutching all the heavy paper bags, following Louis around as they went store to store.

Fashion has never been cheap. And Louis had never looked better.

“Lestat?” Louis’s voice echoed from the dressing room. Lestat stood up straight from his spot. The door in front of Lestat opened up, it was Louis wearing a dress. He was wearing a porcelain white dress with blue florals, puff long sleeves that stopped below the wrists, a corset, and a plunging neckline, the chiffon dress flows out in two layers.

Ever since he saw Louis with a skirt, Lestat had to relearn the English language. He often finds himself forgetting any adjectives or words that could describe just how Louis looked. It was ineffable.

“Y-you look amazing. Stunning. You—” Lestat trailed off. Louis does look great. More than great, really. His dress showed off his figure. It was beyond beautiful. But something about the way Louis was postured felt off. “Why? You don’t like it?”

“I know I said I want to try dresses, and it feels fine. It’s my size. The color doesn’t wash me out. It feels like it should be perfect but—” he stopped and turned to face his back to Lestat’s. Now, Lestat can observe the lacing at the back.“I feel like a man dressing up like a woman.”

Lestat did not know how to respond. 

They made eye contact by the mirror. Louis probably saw Lestat’s confusion and he decided to continue. “Do you remember when Gabrielle forced you into that suit you wore during your Aunt Martha’s wedding?”

He remembers. Of course he remembers. One of the groomsmen had an emergency, so the number was uneven. Lestat was chosen to be the replacement, seeing he was tall enough and old enough. He was forced out the suit he had worn, a black one which was standard for guests. Instead, he wore a beige suit similar to the ones other groomsmen had been wearing, the suit of one of the bride's cousins. Yes, it did fit him in terms of lengths but it felt wrong. In the wedding, as a replacement, wearing some borrowed suit tailored to someone else, Lestat stood there feeling the most out of place.

"That's how I feel right now," he sighed. "I feel like I’m just cosplaying some woman. Wearing it right now, doesn’t feel like me.” 

When he opened his eyes, Louis was still melancholically observing his body, twisting into angles trying to make sense of the dress that somehow fit him perfectly and yet he didn’t want it. The disappointment on Louis’s eyes were enough for Lestat to wish he could take the dress off him.

How easy would it be? To take the tangled knots and untie them, to take off the dress and let it drop down on the floor?

He took a step closer to Louis. Standing this close, Louis shivered. Lestat heard the slow inhale, the quiet shift of breath before Louis finally murmured, “Lestat?”

“If you don’t want this dress,” Lestat took another step near Louis. They were looking at each other, eye to eye, through the mirror. Lestat continued, “we’ll find another. If not this store, then the next. If not today, then tomorrow.” Slowly, he turned his head, to face Louis, to which Louis responded. They were there, less than a foot apart, their eyes catching each other. “We’ll find you the dress that makes you feel like you. And if we don’t, I’ll have one made just for you.”

Louis simply sighed. Lestat took the opportunity to cradle his head into his own hands, Louis’s cheeks familiar on the palms of Lestat. His skin was a little cold. Louis shifted his gaze away from Lestat. “What’s wrong?” asked Lestat.

“I have been eyeing this dress for months. Now that I’m wearing it, I just feel disappointed. I don’t feel what I thought I’d feel when I can finally wear this dress.”

“What matters is that you still tried it on,” said Lestat. “I think I saw something on the mannequin outside, a green dress that I think would look good on you. Wait for me here?”

Louis just nodded. Lestat took off and saw the dress he was talking about on the mannequin. A green dress. Lestat had a feeling Louis might like it. He had a saleslady help him find one on Louis’s size. He took the dress and slipped it through the crack of the door where Louis was changing.

The shuffling of fabric could be heard in a slight echo of the otherwise empty changing rooms. Lestat’s mind try to conjure up the look of Louis in this dress that he —Lestat de Lioncourt, the man who can claim to know Louis more than Louis himself—had picked. It gave him immense satisfaction, that Louis was trying on something Lestat had picked for him.

The dress he picked was a long ankle length dress—a safer length, Lestat thought. A length that’s long enough to not overwhelm Louis. It was a sea green polyester dress, and sewn on top of it was a mesh fabric with some sparse black florals, where its seams give off a lettuce trim detail. A square neckline and spaghetti straps. The silhouette was simple, but still form fitting, but not necessarily too revealing. Lestat is aware that Louis has a tendency to lean on more conservative styles, and aside from the lack of sleeves, it was a pretty ‘safe’ dress.

Lestat leaned against the wall by the dressing rooms, arms crossed, anticipating what Louis might look like. And then—

“Lestat?” Louis’s voice came in a little out of breath. Suddenly the door was opened, the black thin strap of the dress falling over one shoulder of Louis. His hands were clutching the front, trying to keep the fabric from falling over and revealing his chest. His shoulders were bare, except for the thin flimsy straps. “I need help with the zipper,” said Louis.

The door creaked wider, an invitation, a signal for him to come in. Lestat stepped inside, closing it behind him with a soft click . When he turned, Louis had already turned away from him. Waiting.

His throat constricts, air struggled to come and go into his system.

The zipper had been pulled down halfway, baring the smooth expanse of Louis’s back. From the delicate curve of his nape, past the sharp lines of his shoulder blades, down to the gentle dip of his spine—until the sea green fabric of the dress finally interrupted the view. Lestat took a step forward and clasped the cold metal of the zipper  in between his fingers. 

His skin was smooth, unblemished, and untouched. Lestat’s eyes roamed across his body, where he found himself biting his lip, just wondering how easy it is to make red bloom, to make a map of a thousand kisses. The zipper was nudged down. And he could see it, imagine himself in a different plane of existence where he can press his mouth against the nape, then the dip of his shoulder, then two more kisses mirroring each other along the arc of his shoulders. Lestat would map his hands, trying to cover every inch of his skin, while his lips would follow leaving more warmth, tracing it right there down the spine and after that—

Without thinking, Lestat eased the zipper further down.

More skin was revealed. More untouched space for his lips to press against. The line of his back deepened, the small of his spine coming into view. Lestat can see himself placing a thousand kisses there. Then going up to the nape again, with his tongue tracing down the path. Lestat's finger's travelled down, bringing down more of the zipper and its at its end. What's left was for Lestat to take the dress by its staps and then—

“Up,” Louis squeaked out, his voice tighter. “I need help zipping up, Lestat.”

Lestat blinked. Right. Of course. 

Clearing his throat, he yanked the zipper up in one smooth motion.

Louis started turning this way and that, inspecting his body and the dress by the reflection in the mirror. He would adjust the straps, smooth the already smoothen out fabric over his hips, or then twisting again, testing how the dress moved with him.

On the other side of the small room, Lestat struggled to school his expression into something neutral. He had spent the past few seconds dangling on the last threads of his self-control, and watching Louis now wasn’t helping. The soft curve of his shoulders, the long line of his neck, the juncture there where Lestat could so easily rest his head—it was all too much.

“Well?” Louis finally asked, turning expectantly.

Instead of answering, Lestat took a step forward. His hands fell to his sides as he let himself lean in, pressing his face against Louis’s shoulder. The warmth of bare skin met his lips—not a kiss, just the lightest brush, as if he had meant to rest his head there and nothing more.

Louis shivered.

Lestat closed his eyes. He just couldn't help himself.

It wasn’t a kiss. His lips simply rested there. He could press one easily, just a slight movement, just the barest pressure, and it would be done. But if he did, if he crossed that line, a decade-old friendship could vanish in an instant.

It’s just a coincidence, Lestat told himself. It means nothing.

A coincidence that Louis happened to wear something that left so much skin exposed. A coincidence that Lestat happened to rest his head in the exact place where his lips barely grazed his shoulder. He’s done this before, he reasoned, countless times, when Louis wore something else, something that covered more. And yet, here and now, with Louis dressed like this, it felt different.

Lestat exhaled through his nose, his breath fanning over Louis’s collarbone. He was too close, lips still resting against skin, still not a kiss. But Lestat could feel the impossible warmth rising inside him, spreading like a fire he had no intention of putting out.

He should step away. He should say something.

Instead, he whispered against his shoulder, “What do you think?”

His question was met with silence, except for the sound of Louis taking a deep, long, breath.

Lestat summoned all the willpower to take a step back.

He took a step back.

“What do you think?” once again, Lestat asked. As if he wasn’t almost kissing Louis’s shoulder just three seconds ago.

Louis blinked. Then he looked away.

“I uh…” his face went flush. “The dress—right! I love it!” he said. His voice was soft, but hesitant. Louis placed a hand on his shoulder, the one where Lestat rested his lips onto. Then he shook his head, rubbing his palms over the fabric, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “It’s perfect, but I don’t know if I can wear it. It feels a bit too much. Like the dress is too loud of a statement.”

Louis was right. The dress fit him like it was made for him, hugging every curve, accentuating his figure in the most flattering way. The fabric gleamed, its color rich and bold, creating a striking contrast against his skin. But that was the problem, it was a statement, one that demanded attention, and Louis wasn’t sure if he was ready to make it.

“If it feels too much, maybe you just need to accessorize a bit,” added Lestat. Put the attention back on you. Right now, the focus is on the dress, and not on you. Correct?”

Louis opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed. “Maybe.”

Lestat hummed, considering. “What if we add something to balance it out?”

Louis eyed him warily. “Like what?”

Instead of answering, Lestat shrugged off his suit jacket. A well-tailored, oversized grey piece, sharp at the shoulders but loose in the body. It was something he had thrown on over his graphic tee white shirt. He stepped forward and, without warning, draped it over Louis’s shoulders.

Louis blinked.

He turned back to the mirror.

The effect was almost immediate. The dress was smooth, and mildly form fitting, with the fabric falling down and creating a column of the slight curve of Louis’s body. But with the oversized suit jacket, it creates a boxiness over above, creating a more interesting and balanced silhouette. The boldness of the dress was still there, but now behind the jacket its more understated, as if encouraging you to look more at who was wearing the dress. A perfect blend and combination between structure and fluidity, where you simply cannot help but look at Louis. Look at Louis in that dress, instead of look at the dress on Louis.

Louis then glanced back at Lestat. “It works,” he said. Then his smile went wider, and Lestat can feel the drum of his heart. “Thank you, Lestat.”

They went ahead and bought the dress. Louis tried to return the jacket to Lestat, to which he refused to accept. Telling Louis that it was perfect for whenever he decides to wear the dress.

Never mind the fact that the blazer was his investment, a slightly oversized suit jacket from Yves Saint Laurant that costed him a whopping two thousand dollars. And that, with the way his expenses were stacking up this month, he wasn’t going to be able to buy a replacement anytime soon.

It’s just for today, Lestat can’t help but think. Yeah, that’s right. Louis just started wearing skirts, I’m just excited for him. You cannot put a price on trying to help your friend discover a new part of himself.

The odd moments—the strange pang in his chest, the way his breath caught at the sight of Louis’s calves, his shoulders—were just a temporary lapse. A blip. He was reading too much into it. He just wasn’t used to seeing Louis like this, that was all. Once Louis wearing dresses and pretty skirts became part of the norm, Lestat would go back to feeling normal.

Give it three months, he thought. Three months, and I’ll be back to normal. I would look back to this day and laugh all about it.

———

“Let’s buy a smoothie.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, my throat feels super dry right now. I need something to drink.”

———

Laughter. Some ruffling. The unmistakable sound of hushed whispers, the creak of the front door, a muffled shut up from Daniel, followed by Armand’s breathy chuckle, replying make me.

“Hello,” said Lestat from his spot on the couch.

“Jesus!” Armand and Daniel jumped away from each other, breaking apart. “Lestat, I told you that Daniel’s coming over!”

“I know,” he stood up from his spot. “I’m glad, this is perfect timing. Look,” Lestat raised a pointer finger up, and there was a banner of a white cloth with the words painted in red saying ‘INTERVENTION.’ They used the banner back when they were still freshmen, when Daniel was a senior. Back when Daniel was using too many drugs to be considered recreational.

Daniel raised a brow at Lestat. “I’m clean. I have been clean for years, Lestat.”

“It’s not for you, it’s for me,” Lestat paced around then plopped back to the singular arm chair. He crossed his legs and ran his hand through his own locks, feeling wading through silky smooth locks. “Sit down and be ready, because this will be a long night.”

“I was ready for a long night,” complained Armand. “I haven’t seen Daniel for two weeks. Two! Just leave, Lestat, or else we’re having sex right in front of you.”

“Please don’t,” said Daniel. “Babe, remember when I said that we need to set boundaries with Lestat? Having sex in front of him is the opposite of that. He’s already too involved with our lives.”

“I have seen you two having sex, it is no big deal,” waved off Lestat. “Daniel might need some improvement, but that’s all I can say.”

“When did you—”

“Back to me!” Lestat stomped from his spot. “You two are my friends, can’t you two just withhold yourselves and listen to what I’m gonna say? It’s really difficult—to admit that I may have a problem.”

Armand stared at him.

“I wouldn’t have come to you if it isn’t urgent,” continued Lestat. “Something happened, a while ago. I—” Lestat then sighed. “I fought with Louis.”

“That’s nothing new,” said Armand. “You always fight with him.”

“This is different,” Lestat’s voice was a bit higher than intended. “We haven’t talked in ten days.”

Now this caught the attention of the couple. “TEN DAYS?” the two of them exclaimed at the same time. The two of them looked at each other at the unexpected unison.

“I did just say that, no?” Lestat whined. “Look, we fought and then we haven’t talked each other in ten days. Or at least, he won’t talk to me in ten days. I tried meeting up with him the other day, and Claudia and her redheaded girlfriend acted like some kind of barricade. And a while ago, I tried to chase him but he won’t even listen! And I desperately need your help, I do not know how to make it up to him.”

Daniel and Armand did the whole ‘communicating with their eyes’ thing that couples seem to do. Lestat was fuming. They do know Lestat will end up having things his way, right? Just like always?

“Fine,” said Daniel finally exasperated. “But only because of Louis.” Daniel sat on the couch opposite of Lestat. 

Daniel had always had a soft spot for Louis. Despite Daniel having already graduated when Louis just started University, they had met through Armand and formed a friendship. Louis had read every article Daniel had ever written, while Daniel had read a number of Louis’s favorite literature.

“Honestly a miracle your friendship lasted for so long,” admitted Armand. “I mean, have you met you?”

“How did this start anyway?” Daniel asked.

“Three months ago,” recounted Lestat. “It started when Louis just wore his first skirt. I can remember it like it was yesterday, rusty maroon A-line skirt. We were supposed to go for brunch in MapleBee's. And then the problem started…”

Lestat trailed off, trying to envision the skirt. He sighed. And then he looked back at his companions, waiting for him to come down from his imagination.

“Anyways, I have a problem. A big problem. A really really big problem. It is very hard to deal with, this big problem—”

“I swear to god if this is shaping up to some dick joke,” interrupted Daniel.

“Because it is, Daniel. It is about my dick,” said Lestat. “I get hard around Louis whenever he wears a skirt and that’s the problem. He wears a skirt and I’m in ruins. At first I am doing fine, yes I can see some calves, and at times his ankles. But lately he’s been wearing them tighter and shorter! It’s destroying my life. One time wore a miniskirt and I got so hard I had to jack off in my car. I am pretty sure my TA saw me. How would I know he was the one parked next to me?!”

Armand started laughing. Slapping his knee, punching his fists on Daniel, actually tearing up, kind of laugh.

“I will try my best to ignore the last part but,” Daniel sighed. “Getting hard is usually a sign of a healthy relationship between two consenting adults,” stated Daniel. “Which you could be, with Louis. But in your case: a sign of attraction to your crush, only because you still insist that you and Louis are just friends.”

“Because we are!” Lestat protested. “That’s why we fought because— I am getting ahead of myself. I need to tell you the whole story.”

“I can sum up the whole story,” started Armand. “Louis wears a skirt, you’re hard, and then one time you got arrested. That’s the whole story.”

“You got arrested because you got hard?” Daniel was astounded.

“No! Well, yes, but that is not the whole story! We’ll talk about that later,” said Lestat. “The Problem started three months ago. And I told myself, if after three months the problem persisted I will seek help. It’s been exactly three months and I need to tell you what happened. The full story.”

“You remember the exact date Louis started wearing skirts? What kind of virgin behavior is this?” asked Armand.

“I had it marked in the calendar. Just in case, for documentation purposes!” continued Lestat. “And now, I am glad I did, because after five times where I endangered my life, its enough to realize how big of a problem this had become.”

"You endangered your life five times because you got hard?" asked Daniel.

"I AM TELLING A STORY. YOU NEED TO LISTEN."

———

Case no. 1: A Head Injury

It’s been two weeks since Louis had started wearing skirts.

It was both a blessing and a curse.

After Louis had worn his first skirt, Lestat tried to hide his disappointment (and at the same time, relief ) that Louis had worn his usual pants the next day. But then Claudia’s birthday happened,  something must have changed because after that Louis started wearing skirts—and the occasional dress—almost every single day. 

Lestat was happy for Louis. Truly. After years of being trapped in NOLA where he was forced to conform to the masculinity his family had expected him to, Louis was finally free. Now he’s free to do whatever he wants, kiss whoever he wants, and wear whatever he wants. And right now, that meant flowy skirts and sundresses.

Of course, Lestat was nothing but supportive. Of course, Of course he was! But fuck, Louis discovering his feminine side had been a challenge and was stirring something deep inside Lestat he cannot quite place.

As if that weren’t bad enough, Louis in a skirt had also turned into a goddamn bat signal for men.

Normally, guys would often hesitate before approaching Louis for a multitude of reasons:

1. Louis is beautiful. Too beautiful, to be honest. The type of beauty you don’t just easily approach
2. Guys really can't assume Louis’s sexuality, especially since Louis does have a penchant to present himself as the typical masculine male from the South
3. And even if Louis is gay (which he is, but they don't know that yet), guys had no way of telling if Louis was single

But apparently, skirts changed the rules.

Now, they weren’t hesitating at all. They were walking behind him, eyes full of hearts, tripping over themselves like lovesick puppies. And worst of all? Most of them didn’t even ask if Louis was single before trying to shoot their shot.

So now, Lestat had to go out of his way to swat them away like flies. Because if Louis was going to date someone, it had to be someone Lestat approved of.

And most of these guys?

They were either broke, shorter than Louis, or has an intelligence less than that of a fucking sloth.

Absolutely not. And this is why Lestat is the one who arranges dates for Louis. If Louis ever goes out on any common guys who just approached him, he might end up going on a date in fucking McDonald’s or something. And before he knows it, he might marry some guy who’s living pay check to pay check. Louis deserves all the luxury cars and fancy dinners. Louis also has some expensive taste on clothes, considering Lestat racked up quite the bill when he promised Louis a shopping spree.

The guy has to be as rich as Lestat (or at least, has a trust as big as his), or even richer.

Lestat shuddered at the idea of Louis marrying anyone some broke guy.

And this was why Lestat was glaring at the man in front of him.

They were in the bookstore, where Louis was working. As usual for Lestat on a Wednesday, he had no classes to attend, so he spent the day lounging on one of the sofas, lazily flipping through books and playing with the cat named Catt Damon, someone he had become quite close with. It was a good routine, a peaceful one. He loved spending time in the bookstore, catching up on some assigned readings he never does when he's at home.

Until he showed up.

A man, young, wide-eyed, and entirely too enamored, stood at the counter, chatting with Louis. There was something about the way he spoke, like every word out of Louis' mouth was spun gold. Just a little bit more, he’d be some cartoon with hearts popping out of his eyes. Lestat watched as Louis smiled (warmly, too warmly), nodded, and then excused himself to check something in the back.

The guy sighed, dreamy and pathetic.

That was when Lestat pounced.

“So, tell me, what exactly do you hope to get out of this little visit, hmm?”

Terrence blinked, as if just noticing the blond lounging against the counter, all sharp smiles and sharper eyes. “Uh, I was looking for the pre-owned 50th Anniversary Edition of The Hobbit? I heard from so-someone it was donated here.”

“Ah, yes.” Lestat tapped his chin. “That one arrived in last week’s donation pre-loved books. A bit expensive, though. Clearly well loved. An edition that people sought after, worked hard to look for. And you just waltz in here, demanding to have it? And, forgive me, but you don’t exactly look the type—what’s your name again?”

“Terrence.”

“Well, Terry ,” Lestat drawled, looking him up and down with blatant judgment. “You want something as precious as that while wearing that ?”

Terrence frowned. “It’s Terrence. And what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Lestat made a tsk sound. “Where do I even begin? You want the special edition of The Hobbit—priceless, delicate, limited in circulation , and highly coveted. Correct?”

Terrence nodded quickly. “Y-yes?”

Lestat hummed, tilting his head. “And you, Renny-boy, do not understand anything about preservation. ” He motioned vaguely toward Terrence’s hoodie. “Based on your raggedy clothes covered in bleach stains,” Terrence looked at his own shirt. “And your palms stained with ink and highlighters, your bag with leather so tattered it’s practically ash, your shoes that's sooted with dried mud, how can you possibly take care of something so precious ?” Terrence looked at his palms then his bag then even down to his shoes and deflated.

Terrence adjusted his glasses, laughing nervously. “I’m just checking the book out, I don’t even know how much it is. I—I don’t know what you mean by that.” He cowered slightly under the intensity of Lestat’s gaze. “ S-so what do you mean by that?”

Lestat’s smirk deepened. “It means, Terry, that if I were you, I’d stick to something more… attainable. Something easier. Since, well, easy is all you can get.”

Terrence opened his mouth, then closed it.  “E-easy? What does that even mean?” His hands twitched at his sides.

Lestat leaned in slightly, voice lowering to something almost conspiratorial. “Why not download a PDF instead? Something digital. Something more… your speed. ”

“I—” Terrence swallowed. “I already have it in PDF.”

“Of course, you already have it,” Lestat continued, undeterred, “something tells me you’re already familiar with the online kind. The kind where you’re all by yourself. Clicking. Scrolling. Repeating. You know what I’m talking about, yes?” He snickered. “We both know how this plays out. You wander into a bookstore, thinking you’ll buy a book. You pretend you’ll read said book. You’ll fantasize about buying or reading the book. But you won’t ever end up purchasing the book. Because you’d realize that the book is too out of your reach. It’s meant to fall into the hands of someone a thousand times better than you.”

“What if…” he looked away, he clutched the strap of his messenger bag tighter. “What if I can take care of said book? Or even afford it. You’d never know. Some guys like me are luckier.”

“That’s true, some guys are indeed luckier, but you already know that’s not you, right?” Lestat let out a dry chuckle, then he gave him a pitying look. “No, no. You’ll be in your room, alone, hunting down stray online copies while thinking about the first edition book you didn’t buy. Because, let’s be honest, you can’t buy it in the first place.” He smiled, sharp and gleaming. “It’s not the type of book sold to people like you. So instead of reaching for something you’ll never have, do yourself a favor and stick to what you know. ”

Terrence swallowed hard. “I—uh—”

“Do you understand what I’m saying, Renny? ”

“Yes,” Terrence squeaked, clearly terrified.

Just then, Louis reappeared, completely oblivious to the battle that had just taken place. “I think it’s on the top shelf. I already brought out a step ladder, but just to be safe, can you spot me, Lestat?”

Lestat shot one last victorious glare at Terrence before following Louis to the back.

The storage room was a four hundred square foot room that seemed very tight with how much shelving and boxes it contain. With how tight the space is, it made up for height, which the owner did try to maximize seeing as some items go way up.

Louis climbed the step ladder with ease, his structured paneled skirt slightly swaying with every step he took. Lestat tried his best to be obedient enough for his spotting duties, staying below and ready in case for something unsavory might happen. Or just assist Louis if he needed something else.

“I swore we placed it up here,” said Louis. “Based from Tough Cookie’s logs, it should be up here.”

“Your co-worker doesn’t really understand how the system works,” grumbled Lestat. He hated it here. The lights weren’t bright enough, the ceilings too drabby, and all the shelves too full and hazardous looking. One look at the cozy book shop, you wouldn’t know how bad it was in the storage room. “Just tell Torrent the book wasn’t here and be done with it.”

“Torrent? Is that his name—Aha! There are some copies stuck to the wall. Lestat, can I borrow your phone for a bit? I need a flashlight.”

Lestat got his phone out of his pocket. He looked up and, “Here—” he gulped.

Louis, oblivious to Lestat’s internal dilemma, simply said thanks and went back to searching for the book.

Lestat wasn’t sure, but he saw a flash of color.

It could be safety shorts. People do wear safety shorts underneath their skirts so that no one would peep, right?

And Louis was wearing something a bit longer today! His navy blue structured skirt with boxed pleats were steady, and not that flowy at all. It meant that there was less chances of it blowing away from the wind to give everyone a view of his underwear.

But there’s no wind. Instead, Louis was up the ladder.

And Lestat was conveniently on one place on the Earth right now where he could see what’s underneath.

He was curious.

Not for perverted reasons or anything! Lestat just wanted to check whether or not Louis was being safe or not. Or was Louis even bothering with wearing some shorts considering that his skirt was a bit long. 

Lestat took a step back. The structure of the skirt gives the skirt an angle so you cannot see it directly underneath, with the way Louis’s body was in a slope.

Yes, just being a good friend. He told himself that. If Louis were wearing shorts, Lestat would tell him that he didn’t have to wear them. After all, what if Louis didn’t feel like wearing anything extra underneath? What if its too hot to even wear more layers. He’s just being a good friend. He’ll probably tease Louis for being too careful.

It’s not making any sense, but Lestat needed to see what’s underneath, okay!

He took another step back.

What if Louis wasn’t wearing any shorts? What if he’s just wearing his underwear? His boxers, his briefs, or even some of his bikini-cut briefs,

Another step back. He can almost see it.

But what if Louis started experimenting even further? What if its not just skirts he started wearing? What if his femininity had gone beyond just outward appearances?

He tried to shift his head and body angle.

What if he started wearing panties?

BOOM. CRASH.

Lestat stumbled backward, knocking into one of the storage shelves. A stack of books came tumbling down, followed by the unmistakable clatter of something metallic hitting the floor.

Above him, Louis froze.

“Lestat? LESTAT.”

He blacked out after that. Lestat can’t exactly remember much. Louis had filled in the gaps, that he backed up to a faulty shelf that contained some stacks of books which caused them to fall down his head. He had a swelling on his forehead that looked an angry purple.

He did remember seeing the color green, though.

Louis was wearing snug briefs.

Chapter Text

“Wait.” Armand suddenly stood up, eyes narrowing. “Is that why you always slow down whenever we walk by the stairs? You’re trying to peek at his underwear?”

Yes.

“No!” Lestat protested. “I have always been a slow walker, and I’m just very observant. So maybe, possibly, I might have noticed someone’s underwear while they were walking up.”

Daniel snorted. “And you still think you two are just friends? You saw me once in my boxers and immediately banned me from stepping foot in this apartment.”

“Because no one wants to see your hairy ass anyway!” Lestat shot back.

“You literally said you wanted to bleach your eyes.”

“And I almost did! ” Lestat huffed. “But that’s beside the point.”

“Oh yeah? What exactly is the point?” Daniel asked. “Are we seriously sitting here talking about the five times you got hard over Louis while you’re also trying to convince us—and yourself—that you only see him as a friend?”

“That’s impossible,” Armand cut in. “Because there’s no way it’s just five times.”

Lestat sighed. “It’s about the five times I did the absolute worst things because of my dick. And how I realized that this has become an actual threat to my life. I need to remove myself from the situation before it kills me.”

Daniel blinked. “Are you telling me your life was in danger because you got hard?”

“ Multiple times!” Lestat groaned. “And I talked to Louis about it, and now he won’t talk to me!”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. “I highly doubt that. If you told Louis you get hard over him, he’d probably be thrilled.”

“Well, he wasn’t. ” Lestat grumbled.

“Maybe he finally realized how shit you are,” Armand said, ever helpful. “Came to his senses.”

“He thinks we’re just friends,” Lestat said. “Which is true. But then I ruined it. And that’s why we’re not talking anymore.”

Daniel frowned. “Maybe it’s how you said it. Because I really doubt Louis is mad about the idea of you jacking off to the thought of him.”

Armand narrowed his eyes. “Wait. What exactly did you say to him?”

Daniel leaned in, looking suspicious. “Yeah, because I don’t get it. If Louis stopped talking to you, then you must’ve said some real dumb shit. I’m familiar with how much patience Louis got towards you, Lestat. Whatever it is, I know its your fault. So what dumb shit did you do?”

Lestat shifted in his seat. “I don’t know if I’d call it dumb. ”

Armand and Daniel exchanged a look.

“Oh, that’s not a good sign,” said Daniel. “That’s the voice of a man who fucked up.”

Armand smirked. “Did you tell him you get hard over him?”

“I— No! ” Lestat scowled. “Maybe, but—I mean— not in those words! ”

“Then what words did you use?” Armand pressed.

Lestat suddenly shot up from his seat, pointing an accusatory finger. “That’s not important right now!”

Daniel blinked. “It’s literally the most important part of this conversation.”

“Well, I refuse to be interrogated like a common criminal!” Lestat declared. “Besides, this isn’t even about that. This is about me and the many ways my life has been ruined.”

Daniel just scoffed. “Oh, so we’re the ones wasting time?”

“Yes! Because I’m not done! ” Lestat placed a dramatic hand over his chest. “I am a victim in this situation, and you two are completely ignoring my suffering.”

Armand threw his hands up. “Oh my God, just get to the next tragic dick story then.”

“Case number two.” Lestat sighed, nodding solemnly. “He wasn’t exactly wearing a skirt, but I blame it all the same.”

Daniel’s eyes widened at him. “What do you mean by that?”

———

Case no. 2: The Road Incident

It has been a month since Louis started wearing skirts.

Lestat cannot comprehend life before it. It had become the norm now, Louis had successfully incorporated skirts into his wardrobe. Dresses, on the other hand, remained a rarer sight. Despite owning a few, Louis had only worn one publicly. The green dress they had picked out together, which he chose to wear during his twentieth birthday. He had paired it with the Yves Saint Laurent blazer Lestat gifted him, a silver choker, and black Chelsea boots. The image was burned into Lestat’s memory, not just for how striking Louis looked, but for the quiet, personal pride he felt knowing Louis had chosen to wear the dress he had selected.

Time passed by in a blink and suddenly it was already in the middle of October, which can only mean one thing to University students. Late night studying, procrastinations, and saying goodbye to sleep in general—It was already Midterms.

Just as Lestat had envisioned before he graduated high school, once him and Louis gets to the same University, gets to UCLA together, they would spend all night studying, spending all nighters with too many cans of energy drinks. Reminiscent of the old days. Just like how they used to do it when they were in middle school, then high school, and so why would it be any different now they’re in college? It won’t be. Because its them. Lestat and Louis. Louis and Lestat. Spending the night together trying to cram as much knowledge they can before their own respective exams.

Except for one tiny difference.

Not exactly tiny, but when it stands next to Lestat, she certainly was.

“You know what sounds like a good idea right now?” Claudia stretched over from her spot on the floor, hugging the throw pillow she had taken from the couch. “Popeyes. Giant, greasy chicken sandwiches. With a side of Cajun fries.” She then turned to Lestat, a sly smirk on her face. “You should order us Popeyes.”

Lestat raised an eyebrow opposite of Claudia on the floor, his laptop and iPad on the coffee table, next to Claudia’s pile of textbooks and gadgets. “You know how delivery apps work. Order it yourself.”

Claudia grinned from her spot, putting her face in her palms. She would have looked absolutely cute if she wasn’t the devil herself. “Oh, I could. But I’d rather use your card. Or, I dunno, your weak sense of pride.”

“You’re the one with the eleven PM cravings, you’re the one to order.”

“Are we really going to do this dance, Lestat?” she snickered. “Because I’m telling you right now, before the clock turns for midnight, I will have you running downstairs picking up our delivery that you paid.”

Lestat narrowed his eyes at her. “You think you can manipulate me?”

“I know I can manipulate you,” Claudia said, already pulling up the delivery app on her phone. “And Louis and I are ‘in the zone’ right now. You wouldn’t want to interrupt the vibes.”

Louis, curled up on the other side of the couch with his textbook, flicked his eyes over to Claudia. He was wearing jeans and his hoodie, looking particularly comfortable, but the bags on his eyes say otherwise. He took off his headphones momentarily, “ I’m in the zone, it’s been twenty minutes since you touched any of your textbooks or your iPad.” He then went back into studying almost immediately.

“Well maybe I’d be back in the zone if Frenchie over here orders us Popeyes!” she whined. Lestat rolled his eyes at her antics, and yet his phone felt heavier in his pocket. As if telling him to order for her, those damn wide eyes were his weakness.

He had grown fond of Claudia, despite the fact that they cannot stand each other.

Lestat’s eyes accidentally met Claudia, then Claudia’s eyes flickered between him and Louis who was busy muttering something to himself as he read over his textbook, a pile of index cards and one highlighter in his other hand.

“Louis!” she screeched, interrupting his flow once again. “Can you pass my bag?” She points to the bag just over to the side of Louis’s spot in the couch. He stretched his body to reach over the arm rest and to the bag, his hoodie rode up, gracing Lestat with a view of his bare stomach.

“The Social Contract’s central issue is about one’s political obligation whereas a man will kee-oh-ay-ess-dee-jee-kay-ell-zee-ex-cee” recited Claudia, her brows furrowed in confusion. Lestat didn’t even notice that she was right next to him, head over his shoulder as she read from his laptop. Lestat didn’t notice but his fingers were pressing his keyboard, corrupting his work and creating strings of sentences unuttered before in the history of mankind—except, well, Claudia just recited it like a witchcraft spell. “Real great stuff, Les. You’d pass philosophy with flying colors.”

Lestat blinked, realizing too late that she was suddenly right beside him, head over his shoulder, reading directly off his laptop screen. He shoved her lightly, but she only grinned wider, fingers already reaching toward his touchpad to scroll through his open tabs.

“Get off!” he hissed, trying to block her. On the other side of the couch, Louis remained blissfully unbothered, head down and fully immersed in his notes.

With some effort, Lestat finally managed to shove Claudia back onto the floor. She landed dramatically, arms flailing.

“Interesting browser links,” she sang, grinning like a cat who had just found a laser pointer. “Why is your Pinterest board full of men in skirts? Men who happen to have, I don’t know, Louis’s exact build, hair, and devastatingly delicate knees?”

A hot flush shot up Lestat’s neck, burning its way to his ears. His chest was pounding. The room felt like it had shot up twenty degrees.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, eyes not daring to stray toward Louis.

Claudia opened her mouth. “Oh Lou—”

Lestat slapped a hand over it, instantly regretting it when she licked the inside of his palm.

“GOD!” He recoiled violently, wiping his dampened hand onto the nearest piece of carpet with a shudder. “You disgusting, thankless little goblin!”

“Popeyes,” she said cheerfully, completely unfazed.

Lestat stared at her. He could fight this. He should fight this. Claudia was clearly trying to provoke him into something stupid. On any other night, he might’ve held his ground.

But then he looked at Louis. Head bowed, headphones in, textbook pages softly flipping as he diligently worked through notes. Unbothered. Unshakable. Studious. Probably hadn't eaten since lunch. Louis had a bad habit of forgetting to eat when deep in study mode.

Lestat sighed.

He turned to Claudia, who was already giving him the I win face.

“Fine,” he said, handing her his phone with a grumble. “Order whatever you want. Enough for the three of us.”

She fist-pumped the air in victory.

A few minutes later, Lestat found himself downstairs. Louis and Lily’s apartment didn’t have a doorman, but it did have a locked main gate, which meant delivery guys couldn’t exactly come up to the fourth-floor unit. Lestat just sighed. He was weak for Claudia. He was powerless against Louis. Claudia knew this—and she took every opportunity to exploit it.

Claudia was Louis’s classmate. A self-proclaimed ‘freaky little genius kid’—though her old classmates would agree. She’d graduated high school at fifteen and breezed through her early college years with an unsettling level of competence. It didn’t help that her highschool research was already published, and that she already has two journal articles under her name. Most people found her intellect intimidating, and her personality even more so: sharp, assertive, and never shy about being the smartest person in the room. 

Her age was something that other people used as a weapon against her, placing accusations of immaturity to her character. This maddens Claudia, as she was more than her age. She was more than the grades she had skipped. She was more than a prodigy. Yet, everybody despised her all the same.

Except for Louis. Louis adored her.

They’d been paired together during their first semester for a lab project and had clicked instantly. From then on, they were stuck together as they conquered Biochemistry together. Louis was never really bothered over the fact that she was three years younger than him, he had simply enjoyed her company. Claudia was one of the two exceptions to Louis’s quiet life, the first being Lestat.

Claudia was also the thorn to Lestat’s peace of mind. Once he got over the jealousy and successfully muted the voice in his head that he was being replaced, Claudia was actually nice to ‘hang out’ with.

And what Lestat meant by hanging out was childish infighting, verbal matches and at times physically wrestling—the latter finds Louis in a look of disappointment, placing both Claudia and Lestat in time out.

Louis also made a comment about how Claudia can go toe-to-toe with Lestat whenever they shout or scream at each other. And that was undeniable proof that Lestat ‘screams like a little girl.’ Lestat was so perturbed from this observation that he ignored Louis for almost 20 hours (a record, truly).

The two of them enjoy chess together. Lestat knew he was good at chess, but for the first time ever he had found his match.

The same can be said for Claudia. The stumped look on her face was enough to tell Lestat she wasn’t used to losing.

It took Louis no time to buy a chess board in his apartment, just so he can have some peace and quiet whenever his two best friends hang around in his place. Board games were one way to engage with Lestat and Claudia, though it was never peaceful, it was quieter than their usual verbal screaming matches, and definitely safer than their physical altercations (though Lestat never truly used his full force against her, he was a gentleman and she was a kid. The same cannot be said to Claudia, who purposely sharpens her nails to scratch Lestat as if she were a cat). The TV’s console was filled to the brim with various board and card games just for them.

By the time Lestat got downstairs, the delivery guy was already waiting. He’d asked Claudia to order food for three . Claudia, naturally, ordered enough for ten people. Lestat found himself juggling drinks and enough greasy paper bags to qualify as a health hazard. Claudia, despite how tiny she was, can really eat a lot. 

He hadn’t bothered locking the door behind him when he left—Louis’s building didn’t exactly have much foot traffic. But when he finally made it back up and opened the door, he was greeted not with peace or gratitude, but something infinitely worse.

Claudia and Louis were huddled together on the couch, whispering. Which wouldn’t have been alarming, except Lestat heard—

“And I’m telling you, last week he wrote a haiku about bending down and something about silk—weren’t you wearing silk last week? He—”

Lestat froze, the bags nearly slipping from his hands. A chill ran up his spine. There was nothing particularly new about Claudia talking about him behind his back, but this felt specific .

And Lestat may or may not have been writing poetry last week. But it’s for one of the GEs he was taking and was struck by inspiration that happened to be when Louis was around. It wasn’t necessarily about him but rather the way silk moved smoothly like waves of a running river.

“...What are you two talking about?” he asked, his voice several octaves too high to be casual.

“Shakespeare,” Louis said, far too quickly.

Lestat squinted at him. “You don’t even like Shakespeare.”

“I—uh. It’s for class.”

Claudia, lounging with her phone and sipping her drink, nodded solemnly. “We were discussing Twelfth Night . Thematically relevant.”

Lestat’s eyes narrowed. “Is that the one where everyone’s in love with the wrong person and it’s all gay?”

Claudia beamed. “Exactly. Very relatable.”

Louis coughed and looked away. 

Lestat decided not to pay too much mind on the two, always up to their antics. He dropped the bags on to the coffee table, by the small space unoccupied by Claudia. The smell of fried chicken and buttered biscuits welcome the apartment. Claudia sprang from the couch and already plucked her drink from the selection, releasing an ‘ahh’ as she drank her cola. Louis stood and made his way toward them at a leisurely pace, brushing his curls back with one hand.

Lestat blinked. Once. Twice.

Louis had changed into a pair of soft cotton shorts while Lestat was downstairs.

Lestat nearly dropped the sandwich he has in his hands.

He can hear Claudia snickering as always.

What caught his attention was the soft baby pink notebook in her hands, the one with the golden butterflies printed on its cover. It was a notebook that Lestat had bought for her during her seventeenth birthday. Lestat had paid no mind when he had given her the gift.

Claudia, however, used the notebook immediately after her birthday.

It had been showing up more and more lately, Lestat had noted. She had been scribbling nonstop, especially when Lestat had been around with Louis.

“What are you writing there?” he asked Claudia.

“Observations.”

“What kind?”

“For another study!” Louis jumped up from his spot.

Lestat felt suspicious.

“What kind of study?”

“Psychology,” they both said in unison.

“What kind of study?”

“Cognitive behavior,” they had, again, said in perfect unison.

Lestat felt his eyebrow twitch. “What are you studying? Specifically?”

Louis and Claudia shared a look.

Claudia looked back at Lestat, a teasing glint on her eyes. “Oh nothing, just something how easy it is to drive people crazy and get them to do stupid things, like—spending their money because they’re distracted.”

“Claudia,” said Louis as if its a warning.

“And this study…” Lestat waved a finger to the notebook. “It’s happening now?”

“Oh Les,” she chuckled. “It started a month ago.”

———

Both Louis and Claudia went to bed by 3 AM, while Lestat had truly been trying to finish his midterm paper where he was able to finish by 5 AM, sunlight spilling to the closed blinds. His paper was due by 1 PM, but seeing as he has a presentation by 12 PM, he had no choice but to finish it now or risk his presentation.

Such is the schedule of college juniors as him.

When he went to Louis’s bedroom, as expected, both Biochemistry majors were fast asleep, both with their hair covers and gadgets near them. Louis was on his back in his bed, a laptop placed on top of his belly, the blanket thrown on the side. As for Claudia, she was sleeping out of the pullout of Louis’s bed on the floor, her iPad also open.

Lestat sighed and firstly took Claudia’s iPad to place it somewhere the two men wouldn’t accidentally step on. He placed it on Louis’s vanity table, trying to scoot over the mess of products upon products of makeup and skincare.

He then stepped carefully to the bed, careful not to accidentally step on Claudia’s limbs, and to Louis’s bed, reaching out the laptop so he can take it away. His thighs were on full display. Damn him. Even unconscious, Louis was unfair.

Taking the laptop away caused Louis’s shirt to ride up, gracing again of Lestat his bare stomach, abs—though not as pronounced—were present. His legs were bare and sinfully long. Worst of all was his face, it was rid of lines and worry that it sported all throughout their all nighter, instead he looked peaceful. More angelic than any cherub in heaven.

He changed out of his shirt and into his white tank top and sweats. Lestat takes his place next to Louis, covering the blanket for both of them.

And almost as instinct, Louis’s probably has felt his body heat because he was curled up to him in no time. Lestat found himself wishing he packed some shorts instead of sweatpants, with the way Louis’s legs entangle them with Lestat’s own. Louis then placed his head over by Lestat’s chest, trying to get more of Lestat’s heat.

Lestat wanted to savor the moment, but sleep had pulled him in.

———

Lestat woke up in a groan.

Or rather with an intense urge to throw his phone across the room.

But the special ring tone he had placed for Louis had been ringing for more than five times. Each time, Lestat had groggily turned the volume down, hoping to slip back into the fog of sleep. But Louis was persistent. His sleep-addled mind begged for five more minutes of peace. His ringtone begged otherwise.

Lestat answered the call.

“Hello?” he mumbled.

“Lestat! Thank god!” came Louis’s voice, rushed and slightly out of breath.

Lestat blinked, and yawned out loud. “What’s wrong?” he asked, him, voice groggy. Louis only sound like that if it was urgent.

“I—God—I’m so stupid. I left my lab notebook and lab coat at the apartment ,” Louis said, practically talking over himself. “ And I have my lab practicals right after my bio exam—I don’t have enough time to go back home—I barely have time to move in between buildings—and they won’t let me in without my coat and I can’t exactly start without my notebook it has all of my records from past exams —”

“Louis—”

“No lab notebook, no practicals—so please, please , please can you —”

“Calm down,” Lestat was already up, sleep leaving him. “What time do you need your things?”

“ eleven-thirty ,” said Louis “ I was rushing this morning and Claudia won’t stop hogging the bathroom and  we wanted to do a cram session before exam starts and I just forgot,” his voice was wobbly. “I’m never like this, I’m just so—”

“Mon cher,” Lestat had interrupted him. He looked at the clock, it was already 9:25 AM, which meant his exam will start in five minutes. “I’ll handle it, I will be by the hallways so you can get it in between moving times. Where are they again?”

There was a pause in the other line. “ I… The notebook might be on my desk. Or by the TV. Or maybe in the closet. The lab coat… I want to say is on my desk chair? ”

“You can just say, Lestat, please find it for me I have no idea where they are,” he replied back. “None of your clues are helpful.”

“ Lestat… Please? ”

Lestat let out an exaggerated sigh, but he stood up starting his scavenger hunt. He has time to look for it. “I have a presentation by twelve by the way. If I’m late, this ones on you.”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you .”

“And I look forward to it,” said Lestat. “Good luck later.”

“ You too ,” said Louis. “ And thank you, you’re really such a life saver .”

They stayed on the line for a couple more seconds, not saying a word despite the time pressure. The line was cut after a minute or two, when the background noise of student chatter had become louder and louder, most probably the panicked sounds of students ready to face their doom.

Lestat had underestimated the scavenger hunt. There were two items in his list. Lestat had been familiar with said lab notebook, it was the A4 sized notebook that Louis often had his nose buried into, it was full of drawings and pasted pictures of his microscope shots of different  lab specimens. Claudia and Louis had made a mess of the living room, with textbooks, notebooks, sticky notes, index cards, and stacks of documents littering practically every surface.

The duo have study habits that would make an environmentalist cry, as opposed to Lestat who prefers to only study with his laptop, iPad and stylus.

After opening every notebook around, he finally found said notebook, nestled underneath the couch.

Lestat started looking for the lab coat, they weren’t in any of the chairs nor was it hung by the coat rack. He had looked into the closet, where Louis had hung his shirts, polos, dresses, and pants. It wasn’t there either.

He decided to dive into the dresser. First drawer showed nothing, just Louis’s pyjamas. The second contained nothing helpful as well, nothing but Louis’s gym clothes. The third one was—

Well, it was his underwear drawer. It was full of his boxers and briefs. And a suspicious paper bag from Victoria’s Secret.

He blinked once. Twice.

Nope. Nope nope nope. That was the sacred "do-not-touch" drawer. The delicates drawer. Lestat has no right to snoop around here, he highly doubts he’d find the white lab coat in this drawer.

His ears felt warm. He quickly shut the drawer.

It was getting harder to breathe.

Then—he spotted a sleeve sticking out from the edge of the laundry hamper. He rushed over and pulled it out.

There it was. Slightly crumpled, but unmistakably Louis’s lab coat.

“Thank God,” Lestat muttered, clutching both items like they were holy relics. Then he saw the suspicious brown stain on the side that smelled like stale coffee.

Yeah, no. This was unusable.

Lestat then remembered there was a pharmacy walking distance from Louis’s building. One that also sold lab needs such as petri dishes and beakers, they would for sure also has a lab coat.

If Lestat started showering now to prepare for his presentation later, he would have ample time to leave, drive to the pharmacy, buy a new lab coat, and deliver them all to Louis.

Being in Louis’s place countless of times before, he already has his own towel in the place, which happened to be right next to Claudia’s own. He had started preparing for his day, the clothes he would wear later already steamed and hung the night before.

Lestat just simply needs to take a shower.

But curiosity had filled him.

Before he realized it, his body moved on autopilot and opened the third drawer of Louis’s dresser. He took out the paperbag from Victoria’s secret and—

Yes there was—

It was a matching set of white lingerie: a lacy bralette and a pair of panties. Soft. Delicate. Unused.

Lestat mechanically placed them back where he found them.

There was no one in the apartment but him. He was thankful for that, else someone would hear his moans echoing in the shower, his imagination already running wild.

Lestat was running late. So late.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He was just going to shower real quick—rinse, scrub, maybe sing a little Fleetwood Mac —and yet… Lestat may have spent a total of five minutes in the shower actually cleaning up and the rest… Well, somehow forty minutes had disappeared. Now, his hair was still damp, and he was tearing down the sidewalk in his slacks and a wrinkled blue polo shirt.

He had parked near Louis’s building, then ran frantically towards the nearby pharmacy as he had planned. Lestat just had to get in, grab the coat, and go.

Except the line at the pharmacy was ridiculous. Apparently, half the neighborhood decided it was the perfect time to refill prescriptions or buy shampoo. Lestat bounced on his heels behind an old man asking extremely detailed questions about fiber supplements, eyes twitching.

He checked the time again. " Shit. "

By the time he finally got to the counter and bought the right size—snatching the plastic bag like it was gold—he sprinted out of the store.

And that’s when the universe decided to punish Lestat for thinking unholy thoughts about his best friend in the shower.

A blur. A bell. A flash of metal. A male voice shouting ,“Watch out!”

Lestat understood what people meant when your life flashes by your eyes when incidents happen. Except the memory that only flashed was of the unused lingerie and how it was to blame for this entire day.

A delivery bike slammed into him at the curb, knocking the wind out of his lungs. The lab coat bag flew from his hand, landing several feet away on the pavement.

“Fuck!” Lestat groaned in a mix of agony and humiliation, sprawled on the ground. Pain shot up in his leg, where the wheel had hit him.

“Dude! Are you okay?” the biker asked, panicked, dismounting fast.

Fuck this shit. Fuck stupid white lab coats. And fuck white lace!

Lestat had no choice but to jump up. He almost cried with the way the pain from his leg vibrated across his body.

“I HAVE NO TIME FOR THIS!” he shouted, startling the poor guy and a few onlookers.

He staggered to his feet, snatched the bag containing the lab coat, and ran . People stared. A child pointed and said, “Mommy, that man’s wet and bleeding.” He was. He was very sweaty. Possibly bleeding. He didn’t care.

The security guard at Louis’s building flinched when Lestat burst through the front doors. He didn’t even bother checking Lestat’s ID to confirm whether or not he was a student of the University. 

He took the stairs two at a time. He could barely breathe by the time he reached the second floor, where Louis’s lab class were.

Louis was already there waiting.

Lestat stood there, chest heaving, hair wild, one sleeve torn, and a very wrinkled lab coat in his outstretched hand.

“…Are you okay?” Louis asked, visibly alarmed.

Lestat straightened, attempted a smile, and said, “It’s nothing.”

“You… There’s a gash on your arm. Your pants are torn up.”

“It’s nothing,” he repeated, hoarse, heroic, and completely feral.

Claudia popped up from Louis’s side. “Did a dumpster hit you?”

“No. A bike, ” Lestat muttered, holding his side.

“Lestat,” said Louis, his voice dropping dangerously low. “You need to go to the clinic.”

“I really can’t,” he huffed. “I have a presentation in,” he then raised his wrist, trying to read his watch.

All the running and adrenaline had Lestat’s blood pumping faster than ever. His vision doubling.

“I need to go.”

“Lestat—”

But he wasn’t able to move away, and instead keeled over, pain shooting up from his leg and onto his entire body. Both Claudia and Louis clamored over to him, some of their classmates even stared at the commotion, worried.

Lestat sat on the floor, holding on to his leg.

“Is everything alright out here?” a gentle voice asked. It was a woman already in her coat, barely five feet tall and huge round glasses. Lestat can see how her expression had softened. “Louis? Claudia? Oh dear,” she said crouching down the floor towards Lestat. “Is he hurt?”

“I’m so sorry Dr.,” said Louis. “He got into a bike accident and he ran all the way here—”

“Louis, no need to worry about that,” the professor interrupted gently, resting a hand on Louis’s arm. “That’s not important right now. Your friend is hurt. He needs help. You and Claudia can come by the lab later and do an extension, bring your friend to the clinic.”

Louis blinked, visibly caught off-guard by her kindness. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Thank you,” said Lestat as well.

Louis moved quickly, scooping Lestat up in one motion. It was as if Lestat was weightless, with how easily Louis was able to carry him in a bridal carry. Any other day he would have swooned, impressed by just how much strength Louis was able to hide despite his irregular gym sessions. It wasn’t like Lestat was light either, he had been bulking up more and more recently.

Unfortunately, the pain on his leg was all he could focus on when Louis carried him to the car and drove him to the clinic.

———

“You fucking asshole! I asked you one time to email me the files I left on my desktop. All you had to do was open my laptop and hit send!”

“I said I was busy!”

“You were home the whole damn day! But the second Louis asks you to bring him his lab coat and notes, you’re willing to power through after a bike crash?”

“Reminds me of the time I pretended to give a fuck about some one-man theater,” Daniel quipped. “Except I was just trying to get into Armand’s pants.”

Armand shot him a glare.

“What?” Daniel continued. “Come on! Do you seriously think I willingly sat through a one-man show where Santiago monologues about how his balls are so big they make his dick look small? The show lasted four hours, Armand. Four hours. Of course I was trying to sleep with you!”

“I thought you were being supportive , ” Armand said, folding his arms. “I thought you were my friend . I directed that play.”

“Well, I never saw you as ‘just’ a friend back then,” Daniel said, doing air quotes at the word just. “You had me doing shit I definitely didn’t want to do just so I could spend time with you. Unlike this dumbass over here who still thinks all the questionable things he’s done for Louis are purely out of friendship.”

“Because we are just friends!” Lestat insisted. “Good friends! Really, really good friends.  We’ve known each other since middle school, Daniel.  You might have cut off everyone you’ve met before college, but I actually value my long-term friendships.” He threw a pointed look at Daniel before continuing. “But me and Louis? Just friends. Which is exactly why we need to fix this problem before it ruins our friendship completely.”

“I forgot, what are you and Louis again? Just friends? Yeah right.” Daniel said flatly. “Say it one more time, maybe I’ll start believing you. Better yet, maybe you’ll start believing you .”

Lestat flashed his usual grin. “Just friends.” Then, one more time for good measure. “We’re really, really, really, really good friends. A concept most foreign to you, Danny. You just think everyone wants to fuck everybody, but Louis and I are really just friends.”

“Doesn’t matter how many times you say it kid, it doesn’t make it true,” Daniel said. “Remind me again, why are we here? This intervention? Oh yeah, that’s right, it's because you won’t stop getting hard over Louis. Everyone wants to fuck everybody, and that somebody for you is Louis.”

“I don’t know about you,” Armand said, crossing his arms, “but I don’t walk a few steps behind my ‘friend’ every time you’re walking up the stairs just to peek at their underwear. ” He scowled. “You pervert. We should beat the shit out of you.”

“I didn’t peek! I saw it, accidentally.” It was true. He was trying to make amends with Louis again, but Louis had been running away from him, trying to escape into his own apartment. Fortunately— Unfortunately, Louis was wearing a pleated skirt that went until the middle of his thighs. So when Louis was running away, taking the stairs two at a time (swift, effortless, beautiful ) Lestat had been graced with a perfect view of hot pink boyshorts.

Lestat sighed dreamily. “It’s also pink today.”

“Daniel,” Armand said grimly. “Get the fucking bat. We’re beating him up the same way he beat up our espresso machine.”

“Yes honey,” said Daniel obediently. He turned to Lestat. “I’m still mad about that, by the way.”

“No bats!” Lestat yelped. “Besides, I’ve suffered enough. Especially case number three.”

Daniel groaned. “Are we seriously going over all the times you got hard because of Louis? Again, I think we’re getting way too comfortable here. I don’t even live in LA anymore but I think our friendship needs more distance.”

“You might be interested to hear what happened,” Lestat started. “Especially this one’s about that stupid espresso machine you guys love so much.”

———

Case no. 3: Lestat vs the Machines

October 31 meant one thing: Halloween.

Lestat loves Halloween.

Ever since he started drinking alcohol (at 16, no less) he had dubbed Halloween to be his favorite unofficial drinking holiday. Lestat is a performer and he loved making a spectacle of his costumes. And the past two years since he started college, he made sure to attend a frat party that has free flowing booze and thrive in the chaos of it—drinking, flirting, and finding the hottest monster in the room to take home. It’s his favorite and Lestat basked in the energy of Halloween, reveling on the fact that he’s the center of attention in a room full of freaks and ghouls.

Louis also loves Halloween.

He had a different approach when it comes to Halloween, preferring a quieter affair (or at least, quieter than Lestat’s). He loved thinking about costumes, conceptualizing it a month before halloween, finding each component of his costume and sometimes even having it custom-made. He and Claudia would then go to the fair together: join the pumpkin carving contest, play all of the games and win prizes, ride as much rides until they throw up from cotton candy and popcorn,  and lastly scaring themselves to death in the haunted house.

They love Halloween, Lestat and Louis. They just love it in a different way that’s why they spend the day apart. Even back in highschool, Lestat would hit up other people for parties while Louis would spend the day trick-or-treating.

But this year was different. And Lestat was heavily tempted to spending Halloween with Louis.

It started with Claudia—of course it started with Claudia, she was a little gremlin bringing chaos to Louis’s life in ways Lestat hadn’t—more specifically, it’s because Claudia is smitten with some girl.

Madeleine Epevier was a freshman that just started attending their school for fashion and design. She’s a student from France who decided, for some reason, to pursue education in the US. Claudia had been taking the same GE as she did. Claudia called her “that weird white lady” but the dreamy tone on her voice indicated something lingering. 

And there was. Claudia asked her out on a date. Madeleine was a bit pensive dating sophomore. A sophomore who was actually one year younger than her. A sophomore who had been living with her parents still. And Claudia was trying her best to prove to Madeleine that them dating would be a good idea, going out of her way and trying to fill up Madeleine’s schedule with her presence. It worked, Madeleine was easing up to the idea of dating Claudia.

So when Madeleine invited Claudia to a Halloween get together, Claudia immediately invited Louis as moral support. Louis didn’t want to but he really loves Claudia so he had agreed.

Louis attending a Halloween party wouldn’t raise alarm bells in Lestat’s mind. It’s whose Halloween party he would be attending.

Because it turns out that Madeleine was currently applying to become a member of the French Student and Culture Association. The same organization Lestat tried to apply to until he decided to defer from his application process. The same organization Armand is a member of. The same organization that Armand’s sleazy theatre friends were members of.

There’s a reason why Armand had slept with so many of his organization mates, for the short time he had been in college and wasn’t dating Daniel yet. There’s also a reason why when you try to map who’s slept with who in that organization you’d run out of ink.

Lestat sighed.

 He was already eyeing up the frat party that promised an open bar, flashing lights, a pool, weed, and a campfire. Lestat had also been flirting with one of the frat boys who looked gorgeous.

The guy also gave Lestat a preview of his costume for Halloween. Lestat wasn’t a presumptuous guy, but the scantily clad photo of him in the costume is basically a guarantee that said guy will be putting out for Lestat tonight.

But Lestat has a duty to fulfill as Louis’s best friend, and its trying to keep the grubby little hands of the French away from Louis.

“For the last time—it’s not a sexy pirate!” Louis groaned, tearing open a package from the growing pile in his room. “It’s just a regular pirate costume!”

“Yes, but you’re dressing up as a female pirate!” Claudia shouted. All three of them were dining out. Or at least, Claudia said he wanted to eat out with Louis and dragged Lestat to pay for their dinner.

(For some reason Claudia had found a way for Lestat to spend more and more money on her. It’s like she had figured something out and Lestat can’t seem to place what’s going on. But he would see her, scratching up his stupid pink butterfly notebook and Lestat has been swiping his card left and right.)

“It’s all covered up,” said Louis, pulling up again his collage for his costume inspiration. He’d be wearing a pirate skirt, but he also had thick black tights and a knee length leather boots to cover him up. “Are you saying anything feminine is intrinsically sexy? You’re setting feminism back to at least ten years with that thought.”

“It’s a sexy pirate because you’re wearing it!” Claudia exclaimed a little too happy. “Because you’re the one wearing it! You’re one. Sexy, I mean. You’d have boys drooling in no time,” then a pointed look towards Lestat. “Right Les? I bet Louis could plunder some poor sailor’s treasure before the night is over.”

Lestat glared at her. She again started scribbling on her pink stupid fucking notebook of hers.

That’s it.

That was the moment Lestat decided to go to some stupid casual house party. Grubby hands would reach out for his best friend and tug them to their unholy ways. Lestat had long established a “No French” rule in Louis’s long list of dating requirements.

But Lestat had a plan anyway, to make sure everyone backed off.

———

Armand and Lestat were both preparing to go to Estelle’s party. Lestat dressed up as Alucard, complete with his dark suit, a platinum waist length blond wig, and a thin sword. It took him one hour to put on makeup, trying to recreate the feline look of Alucard with an eyeliner. He was wearing too many layers for California weather, but he looked dashing. He wanted everyone to turn their heads once they saw him. He looked hot and sexy and that’s all that matters. 

He was just waiting for Armand to come out of his room so they could drive together to the party.

Lestat can’t help but study the suspicious new package that arrived just this morning. It was particularly a large one. He can’t help but sigh, it’s another appliance that would clutter their kitchen.

He tried thinking of happy thoughts, such as how everyone’s eyes would be on him tonight. Lestat can’t help but smile at the thought of it.

However, that might be difficult. When Armand came out of his room, Lestat immediately knew who would be the center of attention.

Armand dressed up as Santa for halloween, complete with a giant sack of gifts, a stuffed belly, and a long white beard.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Armand announced in his old man voice as he came out of his room. He dug into his pocket, revealing a candy cane. “Want some?”

“I need to talk to you,” said Lestat ignoring the odd feelings in his chest that he didn’t know whether or not to laugh at Armand or be angry at him. “It’s about tonight’s party.”

“Come here my boy, let Father Winter cast your worries away,” said Armand in a poor imitation of an old man's voice.

“It’s about Louis.”

“Oooh Louis, cast no doubt my boy, he is definitely on the naughty list tonight,” he stroked his white beard.

“I know Estelle wants to play some truth or dare tonight,” Lestat said in urgency. “I need you to dare Louis to sit on my lap.”

This caught Armand’s attention. He removed his beard to speak clearly. “Say what now?” asked Armand back to his normal voice, unmuffled by the lack of the thick synthetic beard.

“Louis is a sexy pirate tonight.”

“I am failing to see the connection.”

This just frustrated Lestat even more. “ Louis is a sexy pirate tonight. ”

“Again,” groaned Armand. “I am trying to connect the dots, but there’s really none.”

“Louis is a sexy pirate tonight, and there’s a truth and dare. It means someone’s gonna dare him to sit on someone’s lap,” pointed out Lestat.

“You’re saying things too definitively,” drawled out Armand, uncertain. “Why does someone have to sit on someone’s lap tonight. Why does the dare has to exist in the first place? And why are you saying its basically a guarantee Louis will be dared to sit on someone’s lap tonight? Like I don’t really know how your brain works.”

“Because! If someone’s gonna dare him, I would rather it be to me than someone else!”

Armand stared at Lestat, blinking slowly. “Okay, hold on. Back up.”

Lestat groaned. “What now?”

“I just—walk me through this again,” Armand said, tugging his beard down to rest under his chin like a scarf. “Louis is dressed as a sexy pirate—”

“Yes.”

“And Estelle might host a game of truth or dare—”

“Will,” Lestat corrected. “She definitely will. She always does.”

“Right. And in your brain, this means someone is going to dare Louis to sit on someone’s lap?”

Lestat nodded like it was obvious. “Truth or dares in Estelle’s parties are always intense.”

Armand squinted at him. “The last time we played truth or dare, I was dared to lick the headlights of  Tuan Pham’s car. Trust me, sitting on someone’s lap won’t even be a dare because its too fucking tame.”

“JUST DO IT ARMAND,” bellowed Lestat. “You owe me! You and Daniel broke the no sex-on-the-couch rule and you owe me!”

“Fine!”

———

Estelle managed to book a house near the campus for their little house party. It was decorated rather cheaply and tackily, but it does its job. Skeletons hanging around, fake webs all over the ceiling, and headless dolls on every corner. There were two different drinks available, one in the color of blood, and one green that had edible glitter floating around.

When they got inside, a lot of people complimented Lestat, but of course they were very impressed by Armand. And when Armand started getting random trinkets from his sack as gifts—condoms, candy, gift cards, and small toys—everyone would be clapping Armand’s back giving him praises. Lestat immediately separated from him, hating how he was easily outshone by some giant red blob and a two dollar wig. Lestat actually paid good money for his own wig!

Lestat saw Claudia and Madeleine, dressed as Velma and Daphne respectively. They were cute together, holding a Scooby Doo plushie in between them. He also saw Lily, dressed as  Sailor Moon.. Santiago, who Lestat admittedly might not like too much, was also wearing a cheap knock off version of Alucard, which pissed Lestat even more.

Louis wore a long black faux-leather coat lined with silver, a white dress shirt unbuttoned for the first three buttons, exposing his chest and the fuzz of his chest hair, the ensemble was cinched at the waist wearing a red leather belt. A red skirt flared out around his hips in layers of ruffles, with a peek of white petticoats beneath, the crisp frills adding volume. He had black leggings underneath paired with knee-length red leather boots clasped with multiple silver buckles. Pearls decorated his neck, and his hands were covered with rings and chains.

His black hat secured tightly on his head, and thankfully he had forgo his eyepatch, because despite Louis having a divine body, his best feature had always been his eyes.

Though lately, Lestat can’t help but think his legs and thighs were great contenders.

Along with his butt.

Maybe his arms too.

His hair was always styled so prettily as well.

Louis’s chest was also so—

Lestat snapped out of his thoughts.

Lestat found out there were a million ways to feel breathless, and each and every discovery was made every time he had seen Louis. This was an entirely new feeling again. The easy smile on his lips, and the way he throw his head back in laughter had captured Lestat’s entire being.

He had moved his way and decided to dedicate each and every second of the night towards Louis, never minding the fact that he had spent time with Louis yesterday, and even the day before that. And the day before that.

Louis was his best friend, and he wanted to be by his side everyday.

“You’re definitely the hottest Alucard of the night,” teased Louis the moment Lestat made his way towards him.

“I have seen Santiago’s costume, and frankly its insulting you had to even say that,” Lestat declared.

“How’s your leg?”

Lestat looked at Louis in confusion, then realizing he was talking about the incident from a few weeks ago. “All fine now. No pain at all. I would have recovered faster if you nursed me to health.”

“If you want a nurse, today’s halloween,” Louis had said. “I have seen at least three  sexy nurses in this party alone.”

“Sexy nurses is the number one staple in every halloween,” Lestat replied. “I just saw my friend’s story, there’s like a dozen nurses in Lambda Alpha Rho’s party. Besides I don’t want any nurse, I only want you.”

Louis looked surprise. It took Lestat a moment to realize how might that have sounded.

“I—I mean that I don’t really care whoever wears a sexy nurse costume in Halloween. Or halloween sexy nurses in general. I don’t want you to wear a sexy nurse costume! Not at all! I mean, all I want is you to nurse me!”

“Noice!” Gustave popped up randomly popping behind Lestat and patting his back. “Very forward, but go for it!”

It took Lestat a couple of seconds to realize what he had said.

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Lestat shouted but Gustave was already leaving, his red cup sloshing out his drink.

Louis was already looking away, expression unreadable.

“I don’t—You know what I mean!”

“Don’t worry about it Lestat, it’s just that,” he had then looked further away. Was he… embarrassed?

“I was actually about to dress up as a sexy nurse too y’know? Something a little last minute—as a joke! because you kept on mentioning it when you got into the incident,” he said. “Imagine if I followed through.”

Lestat’s head was already reeling.

“Yeah, imagine that.”

———

As Lestat had predicted, people started gathering round the living room to play truth or dare. There were around fifteen of them in the circle, with others opting to observe, or to sit around and chat, or even play billiards in the other room.

Lestat had sat next to Louis, who had sat with his legs on the side, careful with his skirt despite the tights covering his legs.

Truth or dare was one way to get others to spill the tea, or to just catch up. They take turns by spinning the bottle, having the previous player truth or dare the next person the bottle landed to.

There was a reason why Lestat made the request to Armand.

It’s because Armand has a unique talent that, as far as Lestat could tell, only he had possessed.

Armand was an expert at bottle spinning.. He had revealed to Lestat that he had practiced the art of the bottle. That back in his high school, and even the first few years of his college, he had used this skill for evil. It was the skill he had used to get Daniel together with him. It was the skill he used to humiliate his classmate, shaking their confidence and making them drop out of class. It was the skill he used to plot and sabotage other aspiring directors in his class.

It was a power meant for evil and Armand knew how to use it to his advantage.

And now Armand will be using it for good. Or at least, something good for Lestat for Louis to keep him safe from the French and their unholy ways.

“Dare!” Celeste shouted.

“I dare you to pick anyone in this room and switch costumes,” Planche immediately answered.

Everyone in the room groaned.

There were a total of four sexy nurses in the house party. Celeste was wearing the worst one. It was the sexy nurse outfit you could buy with just two dollars and it looked exactly that.

The dress goes just below the middle of the thighs, a floppy hat with a red cross, and a toy stethoscope. It was ugly, and not at all flattering. The only reason why it was considered ‘sexy’ was because of its length because there was truly nothing sexy going on.

She scanned the room and her eyes landed over to Louis, who was easily the best dressed in the circle. “I choose Louis.”

Louis groaned. “Why am I being punished? This is Celeste’s dare, not mine!”

He had tried to protest it off, but everyone cheered on for them to switch. Louis’s very expensive costume and Celeste’s cheap one switching was something everyone started to look forward too. In the end they decided to leave the circle to switch costumes.

Lestat ended up taking his phone out. The frat boy he had been messaging just sent him a highly suggestive photo, he was wearing an angel costume. White cropped shirt that barely showing off his belly button, a thin white short skirt, showing off his thigh tattoo.  It was hot, in a way.

Another photo was sent, this time he was biting his top, showing off his nipples. They were pierced.

Seems like the guy was still down to fuck. Lestat didn’t mind ending the night with sex. As long as it’s the guy that goes to his place, not the other way around.

Lestat has to drive Louis home and he’d be too tired to drive back to the frat house. That was just too much effort.

Louis was the first one to return.

People started dog whistling when he entered, the nurse dress was so short it was riding above his thighs, he had kept his hand trying to tug it down lower but the effort was futile. His legs were on full display and—

Lestat had no idea what to do. It was hard to focus. It was even harder to focus when he can feel himself getting hard.

After the cheers have died down, Louis went to Lestat. “Can I borrow your coat? I need something to cover up so I can sit down again.”

“Yeah sure, no problem, anything for you—” Lestat was about to give it to him when he realized that it was his coat hiding his own erection underneath. “Actually, no.”

Louis looked surprised. “No?”

Lestat gulped. “No.”

There was an obvious confusion on his face. “I asked you yesterday to drive in four different Ikea stores to look for a new mirror. You can do that but not give me your coat?”

Lestat tugged it to cover more of his pants or the tent that had grown. “I’d do anything for you Louis. But I’m cold.”

“You’re sweating right now.”

“Cold sweat.”

Louis sighed. He looked at Armand. “I got you Louis!” he shouted over and threw something from his brown sack again. It was a scarf.

After glaring at Lestat, he went back to his spot next to Lestat and used the candy cane scarf to cover his legs. Lestat wanted to die, saying no to Louis was something he can’t do.

Celeste came back and everyone cheered on how she had looked. Her chest on full display, and she looked a thousand times more amazing with a proper costume.

Lestat’s eyes stayed on Louis. He would have kept on staring at his beauty if it wasn’t for Celeste spinning the bottle.

The bottle finally  landed on Armand. 

Armand chose truth. Celeste asked him where was the craziest place he had sex in.

“Do you know the Chuck E. Cheese mascot?”

Celeste eyed him nervously. “Like, on top of it or inside it?”

Armand just grinned at her. He simply took the bottle.

Shit. The dare. Lestat took his phone and started spamming Armand with a thousand messages telling him to abort the mission.

“Who are you texting?” Louis asked.

“No one,” he replied sending a thousand stop emojis to Armand.

Louis had a mean look on his face. “Is it the stupid frat twink again?”

Lestat didn’t reply, trying to get Armand to notice his phone.

Armand spun the bottle with ease, and as Lestat had witnessed a few dozen times, it had landed exactly where he commanded it to go. It landed right in the middle of the direction Louis was sitting.

“Truth or dare?” Armand sent a wink towards Lestat.

There was bile rising up his throat. 

“Dare?” Louis said more like a question.

Lestat was in full panic now. His dick was still hard. Daring Louis to sit on his lap meant he would find out that he’s hard.

“I dare you to sit on someone’s lap,” Armand had announced. Everyone was saying their ‘oooh’s’ and excited grins. Armand winked at Lestat and Lestat made a face towards him, sparking confusion.

He grabbed his phone and pointed towards it.

Armand was confused.

Lestat wishes he had a gift of talking to someone using minds. God, was Armand this dense?

“Sit on whose lap?” Santiago asked a little too excitedly. Lestat did not fail to notice how he was patting on his own lap.

Lestat imagined decapitating Santiago with his sword.

Armand checked his phone and looked like all the blood got sucked out of him. “S-sit on… On—”

Lestat glared at him, he can feel his nostrils flaring but he didn’t care.

“Sit on—”

“On your lap?” Madeleine piped in. 

Lestat’s head whipped so fast it almost broke his neck. “Excuse me?”

“You know, because he’s Santa?” She asked, oblivious to the mental rampage Lestat was going through. “And Louis is a naughty nurse?”

Armand laughed nervously.

Lestat tried his best to ignore the obvious disappointed sighs of the horny French.

Claudia, who was sitting on Louis’s other side, nudged him and wiggled her eyebrows.

Louis sighed. “Sit on Santa’s lap it is,” he said, taking off the scarf covering his legs and gracing everyone with the view of his flawless long legs. “I can do that.”

He then looked at Claudia’s direction then back at Lestat. He had a particularly mean look towards Lestat for a second before his expression shifted to something more daring and confident.

“Oh!” Armand started laughing nervously, eyes flitting towards Lestat and Louis. “I mean sure!” then he coughed. “Come on, uh, y–you naughty naughty nurse. Sit on my lap and maybe I can get you on my… nice list?” he said in his stupid old man voice, his voice breaking and unconfident.

Louis then smiled towards him. “Works for me, I always wanted to be a good nurse tonight.”

Was Lestat imagining things or did his eyes flicker towards Lestat?

“It doesn’t really take much to be part of my Nice list,” Armand said, trying to loosen his coat, fanning himself. He looked at Lestat.

 Lestat tries to telepathically tell Armand to run off to traffic. It did not work.

“Well, well,” he drawled, looking the Santa costume up and down, “You look like you’re hot. Do you want me to check up on you.”

Lestat had killed Armand again in his head. This time he pushed him from a building.

Armand nearly choked. “Ah—um—thank you,” he sputtered, eyes darting nervously from Louis to Lestat

Louis leaned in just slightly, voice low. “I’ve been a very naughty nurse this year,” he said, tugging playfully at the edge of his dress. “Think you’ll need me to patch Santa up real good?”

There were few cheering going on, particularly Claudia. Santiago looked like he was weeping. Lestat hated what’s happening in front of him.

 Lestat’s dick however had grown harder with interest, if this is how Louis talks to his bed partners, maybe Lestat needs to call all of his exes and become a serial killer.

Armand’s laugh came out as more of a wheeze. “Oh no—uh—I mean, ho ho ho! I, uh—maybe after I get through my rounds of… of toy deliveries.”

“What kind of toys? Anything I can… use?” Louis had asked then sat down on his lap. 

Armand closed his eyes and let out a sound that was an in between of a pathetic cry and a pathetic moan.

Three more rounds of truth and dare and Lestat went home, announcing that he’s got a frat boy to fuck.

———

Lestat had no intention of going to a frat house.

After taking off from Estelle’s party, he had walked in the park to self-reflect. The strands of his wig following the wind, and his coats falling behind too, creating movement as he had walked on the pavement deep in thought.

He went home with a singular thought in his mind.

Lestat took off his costume, washed his face, and combed down his real hair. He took a quick shower and switching to his pyjamas and ready to end the night.

But he had no intention of sleeping. Yet.

He had, however, every intention of ruining Armand’s special package. The one he had waitlisted for, ordered, and had delivered just this morning.

It was an espresso machine from Breville, one of the new releases and the first few that was sold.

Lestat took the bat from Armand’s room and started beating the machine.

“STUPID.” He struck the top with a satisfying crack.

“FUCKING.” Another swing dented the chrome side.

“SANTA CLAUS!” he howled, bringing the bat down with all the rage of a kid that got told Santa was not real.

Except Santa is fucking real and Lestat will murder Santa before the sun will rise.

The bat flew from his hands and hit the overhead kitchen lights, creating a thousand sparks before dying. One of the sparks caught on to the kitchen towel and started a fire.

Lestat took the coat he had draped on the floor and tried to put the fire out.

It caught fire instead.

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” Lestat cried out.

Without thinking, Lestat bolted out of the unit, sprinting down the hall in his pajamas, past the neighbor’s suspiciously open door and the confused stares of a couple.

He reached the fire extinguisher, yanked it from its case, and ran back inside.

The hiss of the foam was loud and messy. Lestat sprayed everything. The counters, the floor, the scorched espresso machine. 

Lestat sighed. There goes the deposit.

He started cleaning up, removing evidence of his rampage as much as he can, but there’s really not much to do when the evidence were broken lights and scorch marks.

Lestat did however discover a notecard on the coffee table.

Happy birthday Mom! I know how much you wanted to try your hand with making coffee. I saved up for months so you can finally get your dream espresso maker.

I love you! See you soon and hopefully you can finally meet my boyfriend. Armand really was a huge help in buying this gift.

—Daniel

———

“I want to make a return, they delivered the package broken.”

“Sir, this looks like it got beaten up with a bat…”

“It was delivered this way.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“...”

“...”

“So can I get a replacement?”

“Get out.”

———

“ That’s why you broke my mother’s espresso machine?” Daniel looked mad, his skin flushing red.

“We have been over this Daniel, I already said I’m sorry.” Lestat protested. “Besides, I bought you a replacement! It was almost as expensive as the other one! The point here is I almost died from fire.”

“It was limited edition,” Daniel said, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You tried to hide your erection and then you destroyed my mother’s gift? You should’ve just burned yourself. Armand just tried to save you!”

Armand nodded, eyes light up trying to look innocent. “Yeah I was just trying to save you! Would you rather him sit on Santiago of all people? He was also hard!”

The fucking copy cat, second grade phony Lestat wanna be.

“Oh shut it you,” Daniel interrupted him. “Louis is on your free pass, you don’t get to talk.”

“Louis is on your free pass?” Lestat could feel his blood pressure picking up.

“I thought we were done with this fight!” Armand groaned.

“Now that I know what really happened, I am going to continue this fight,” huffed Daniel. “But maybe later. I can only deal with one person lusting over Louis at a time. Which meant blondie.”

“What do you mean Louis is on your free pass?” Lestat glared at Armand.

“Oh come on, I always told you I find Louis hot!”

“Yes but in an out of limits kind of way! You said all of the people in your free pass are celebrities!”

“I said almost.”

“We are not talking about the fucking free pass for now,” Daniel stomped on his foot. “We are not opening that just yet. All we need to talk about is why the hell did Lestat pick a fight on Louis so I can help Louis.”

Now he turned his gaze on Daniel. “Is Louis on your free pass too?”

“No, but it seemed like I’m the only one actually worried about him,” Daniel had replied. “Just tell me why hasn’t he talked to you in ten days, Lestat.”

“And I said, we need to talk about the five different instances where I almost died!” Lestat huffed. “And by far, case number four is the most embarrassing one.”

Lestat can’t help but hand his head and remember what had happened. He just got shivers just by the thought of it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Armand suddenly stood up, arms flailing. “Is case number four —”

“Yes,” Lestat cut in miserably. “The most humiliating moment of my life. I almost died! ”

Armand burst into laughter, smacking Daniel on the shoulder over and over again.

Daniel, who still had no clue what was happening, frowned. “Okay, what the fuck is going on? What do you mean you almost died? Out of all your stories, you’re always almost dying anyway.”

“Oh Daniel,” Armand turned to him, shaking his head. “Oh, Daniel, Daniel, Daniel.” said Armand, barely containing his glee. “Remember when I told you about Lestat and the car wash?”

Daniel’s eyes went wide, his mouth forming a huge smile of excitement. “ Wait. It’s this story?! ”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Lestat groaned. “And it’s all because of that stupid wet sock Jonah. ”

“Jonah? Who’s Jonah?” Daniel had asked.

“Exactly, who the fuck is Jonah,” Lestat said. “He might be Louis’s first boyfriend.”

“Might be?”

“I have no idea,” said Lestat. “They had known each other in high school, I think. Louis gets weirdly dodgy about him. Claudia once told me Louis lost his virginity to Jonah, but there’s no way of telling. Claudia’s word is as worthy as a rat's ass.”

“But we hate Jonah?” Daniel tilted his head in confusion.

“Oh we definitely hate Jonah. I think.” 

“I am so confused.” Armand chimed in.

“I’m confused either, but I have long settled on hating him.” Lestat had waved off. “There’s something about him that just boils my blood whenever I see him. He looked plenty of kind but I just know there’s something seriously wrong with him and—”

“Lestat. The story.”

“Oh, yes, where was I? Ah, right. Jonah. Just like my previous stories, this was somehow Claudia’s fault…”

Chapter Text

act i: sophomore year

On my pillow, can't get me tired

Sharing my fragile truth

That I still hope the door is open

part i: flower clips

"Pretty," said Grace as she gently clipped a daffodil into his hair.

They were in the gazebo behind their house. Combs, dolls, hair clips, and tiny clothes scattered across the floor, along with Grace’s glittery handheld mirror. It was her playtime, and both Louis and Lestat had agreed to join in, humoring her with smiles and laughter.

Louis picked up the bedazzled mirror and gazed at his reflection.

“Gracie’s right,” Lestat chuckled. “Very pretty.”

A warmth bloomed in Louis’ cheeks. He reached up and touched the clip, fingers brushing over it softly. He agreed. It was pretty. He was pretty.

The three of them continued to play, laughter and stories filling the air. The daffodil clip stayed in his hair even after Lestat said goodbye and headed home.

Louis felt pretty. Louis felt happy.

But when he returned to the main house, holding Grace’s hand with dolls and sparkly accessories nestled between them, everything changed.

His parents didn’t say a word about Grace’s hair—decorated with a dozen clips shaped like strawberries and daisies. Their eyes went straight to the single daffodil clip in his.

The shouting came fast. His mother’s voice was sharp and shaking. Her hand even faster—yanking the clip from his hair, tearing out strands in the process.

It wasn’t a great experience.

part ii: merrick

Louis had known Merrick Mayfair practically his whole life. If someone were to ask him if there was ever a time he didn't know who Merrick was, he could confidently say there were exactly three weeks of his life where she hadn’t existed in it.

That was because he was born three weeks before her.

If Merrick were asked the same question, the answer would be different. She had never known a life without Louis in it.

Louis was born in his own ancestral home, Merrick’s mother who was pregnant with her at that time, was in attendance. She had been near Florence de Pointe du Lac, assisting her in her labor. And when Mrs. Mayfair went into labor weeks later, in their own ancestral home just across the street, Florence returned the favor, all while bringing baby Louis along with her.

They placed the newborns side by side. Within seconds, Merrick’s Moro reflex kicked in and she smacked Louis in the face. They both cried immediately, their newborn wails echoing, only stopping once they were separated. It had become an odd pattern, it was as if they had senses as infants when one was nearby, that they would screech until they were at least five feet apart. Their mothers could only hope, with amused exasperation, that one day a friendship might blossom between their children as it had between them.

The Mayfairs and the du Lacs had always been close. The decades-old family albums were filled with overlapping memories—christenings, birthdays, weddings—each family appearing in the other’s milestones, sometimes just in the background, sometimes center stage. Their lives had been unwillingly woven together by proximity, tradition, and a long-standing friendship between their families.

Which meant Louis saw Merrick every Sunday, at every birthday, every wedding, and every day in school—and often outside of it, too. She was dropped off at the du Lac household when she needed watching, and the same went for Louis and his siblings. 

Despite seeing each other nearly everyday, despite being classmates practically their whole lives, and despite their houses just sitting across each other’s, there was a strange, persistent, and considerable distance between the two.

Louis cannot exactly call her his friend. They had never treated each other so kindly nor with the warmth the word would imply. But she was never a stranger nor an acquaintance either.

Lestat had taken it upon himself to declare Merrick to be Louis’s rival. Though there was a spirit of competitiveness between the two when it came to academic accolades, extracurriculars, or church involvement and volunteerism, the word rival didn’t exactly hold a sliver of truth to them. 

Or perhaps this was only applicable to Louis, Merrick had always been more spirited towards their competition.

It was difficult to encapsulate who Merrick was to Louis.

However, unbeknownst to everyone, even Lestat, the first person he had ever come out to was Merrick. 

It had happened during one quiet night at church camp. It was one of the days, the in-between nights, where they found themselves sneaking out of their respective cabins to hang outdoors. They sat down underneath the tree, darkness around them, the moon their only source of light. The bites of a strange bug fresh on his knee, Louis can only swat them away.

He had no idea what compelled them to sit there together, away from everyone else. Louis also had no idea why the words started spilling out of his mouth, and to Merrick, nonetheless. He confessed to her that he had felt uncomfortable in the boys’s side of the camp. Their crass jokes, unsettling fantasies, and female objectification was enough to perturb him and leave.

Louis then told her that maybe the reason he had felt out of place—aside from the fact he never agrees with their misogynistic objectification of women—was perhaps he had never really felt attraction towards girls just like healthy ‘normal’ male adolescents do.

He told her that meeting Lestat had awakened something in him. That the moment he laid eyes on him, something clicked—like all the feelings he never understood suddenly made sense. Lestat had been the final, undeniable proof: Louis was gay. And now he was unequivocally, undeniably, head over heels in love with his openly bisexual best friend.

“You should confess,” Merrick interrupted, cutting through the middle of Louis waxing poetic about the color of Lestat’s eyes.

“I can’t think of anything worse,” he muttered.

“Well, I can,” she said, tone light but eyes faraway. “You pining forever. Spending your whole life wondering if—just maybe—if you said something, then things might’ve been different.” Her gaze drifted to some invisible place beyond them, like she’d lived that reality herself before snapping back with a sigh. “Lestat dates anyone and anything. At least you know you have a chance.”

“I’m his best friend,” Louis replied grimly. “He does date anyone and anything. And I’m the exception . If dating him was a line, I’d be the guy holding the sign at the very end.”

“Please,” Merrick snorted, “we both know I’m at the end of that line.”

Louis chuckled weakly. Lestat’s thinly veiled distaste for Merrick was legendary.

“True,” he said, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still behind everyone else. He’s so confident with everyone—so sure of his feelings—and with me…” Louis shook his head. “With me, he’s already sure, that a lifetime of friendship awaits.”

“What if,” Merrick said carefully, “it’s because he doesn’t know it yet . What if—just hear me out—what if he’s been in love with you this whole time and hasn’t figured it out yet?”

Louis immediately shook his head, too fast. “No. No, Lestat’s… he’s so in tune with his feelings. If he loved me like that, he’d know . And he’d say something. He wouldn’t hesitate. That’s who he is. He knows what he wants and he goes after it. Always.”

“And you think you’re the one thing he doesn’t want?”

Louis looked away, jaw tight. “I think… I’m the one thing he doesn’t want to lose.”

Merrick leaned back, folding her arms. “So what, you’re going to bottle this up forever?”

“I just wish I had proof,” Louis admitted. “Cold, hard evidence that he feels something real. Something that tells me it’s worth the risk.”

“Like what?” she scoffed. “Run a study? Track every little gesture like you’re doing field research? Note whether he stares at your mouth when you speak?”

Louis considered it. “That doesn’t sound entirely stupid.”

“Well, it is ,” Merrick said flatly. “What you need isn’t data. What you need is confidence. You need to be comfortable enough in your skin to ask him outright.”

Louis looked down at his hands. That was the problem. He’d never felt comfortable in his skin—not here in New Orleans, not under the weight of his family’s expectations, not at church camp where the loudest voices screamed that people like him would burn in hell, and no one blinked.

“I can’t,” he said softly. “Not here. Not yet. Not until I leave this place.”

Merrick was quiet for a moment. Then, she nodded.

“Alright,” she said. “Then let’s make a pact. I don’t know when or where, but after graduation, we leave. We pack our bags and go somewhere far away. Someplace new. Where you can be you.”

Louis smiled, tentative but genuine. “Deal.”

And deep down, he clung to the hope that Lestat would still be there when that day came. That no matter where life took them, Lestat would be the same constant he’d always been—waiting on the other side of Louis’s fear. And maybe, when Louis finally found the courage to be himself fully, completely, out loud , he’d be able to turn to Lestat and tell him the truth.

That he loved him.

That he always had.

But fate was never that kind. A few weeks later, Lestat met the love of his life—and everything shifted. Including them.

Merrick and Louis had never been quite friends, nor enemies. They didn’t hate each other, but they didn’t exactly like each other either. They never laughed together in the way Louis did with Lestat. No fond memories to look back to. They never studied together. Never hung out by choice. Never sent each other memes or stayed up chatting late at night.

And yet they had entrusted each other with integral pieces of their identity. United together by a shared fear—fear of the church, fear of failing, and fear of disappointing the overly conservative people who raised them.

They were bound not by affection, but by understanding.

part iii: volunteers

“I still don’t understand why it had to be me,” said Louis, trying to adjust the tie he was wearing. “You always say my photos suck.”

“Your photos do suck,” Merrick replied, her voice laced with irritation, green eyes narrowed at him. “But the alternative is worse. If I could get Oscar or even Nina to do it, I would. But they’re both seniors; they deserve to enjoy prom.”

Louis was only a sophomore, yet here he was, roped into covering prom as the school paper’s official photojournalist. He and Merrick, also a sophomore, were assigned as press representatives, lanyards with “PRESS” hanging from their necks. Both wore black collared polo shirts with the logo of their school’s paper, the same shirt they wear during competitions or official business. Louis wore his black slacks, Merrick in gray. Her wavy hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, strands cascading down her back.

It was still five hours before prom officially started. The venue buzzed with preparations. The prom committee, as per unspoken tradition, were composed of members of their school’s editorial board. Louis could spy just how stressed their Editor In Chief was, a phone in her hand talking loudly. He can also spy their current Feature Editor, directing their vendors and suppliers to place decorations accordingly.

Merrick and Louis were also there early to support their editorial board and by extension the prom committee. According to them, there were not enough volunteers. Merrick was ever eager to please the seniors, while Louis was easily dragged into the mess.

“I could be doing anything else,” he complained.

“It’s only until they announce Prom King and Queen.”

“But that’s the end of the night!”

“I don’t see why you’re complaining, you’re always on and on about wanting your photos on the paper,” she shot back at him. “At least once you cover for prom, we have no choice but to use your half decent photos because there’s nothing else. It’s a guarantee for the next edition.”

Louis just sighed at her. He already knew she’d have a lot of notes and complaints with the photos he’d take no matter what.

“We could just have someone else take the photos, someone outside the school paper,” he brought up. He really, really, really wanted to leave.

“Well we could, but there is no one,”she mentioned offhandedly, but the furrow of his brows say otherwise. “Weren’t you bitchin’ and moanin’ about wanting to attend prom? The fuck happened to you?”

Louis chose not to answer her.

Because, deep down, she was right. He had wanted to go to prom. Weeks ago, he’d been casually—perhaps too casually—dropping hints about how magical prom sounded. How he wouldn’t mind attending. How he thought it would be unforgettable.

But those comments weren’t for just anyone to hear.

These comments had been, and always have been, directed to Lestat.

Louis had tried his best to drop several hints, that maybe Lestat can bring him instead.

When Louis and Lestat were younger—barely teens, when their friendship was new and Lestat was still struggling with American culture—they spent their weekends watching teen movies together. One night, Lestat had declared that when prom came around, he’d bring Louis as his date, so they could experience it together. And in return, Louis would take him when he became a senior. It was their childish dream, to spend the prom of three different years together.

It was just a promise, sealed by a their pinkies linking. It wasn’t an official agreement, but Louis held onto it all the same. Lestat probably had dismissed the night, but Louis never forgot it.

Over the years, Lestat had grown into someone hard to ignore. Charismatic, charming, effortlessly magnetic—he never had a shortage of admirers. Guy or girl, it didn’t matter. He could have anyone he wanted as a date. But he never seemed to take dating seriously, brushing off confessions and invitations with casual indifference. And that was what made Louis hold on to a tiny sliver of hope. That maybe, just maybe, Lestat would ask him . Even just as a friend.

So when prom season arrived and promposals popped up everywhere, Louis began to hope. He didn’t ask Lestat directly—he couldn’t. Instead he tried his best to drop hints here and there.  He was never a good liar, and he can’t help but feel that he was already waving his desperation towards Lestat’s face, hoping he would connect the dots.

But Lestat never did. He never caught on to Louis’s roundabout hints.

Two weeks before prom, he asked Nicolas de Lenfent, their school’s enigmatic transferee, to a date, not only for prom but also outside of it. At that moment, Louis had understood, Nicki wasn’t just another one of Lestat’s crush-of-the-week, but rather his first love. He was endlessly enamored by Nicki, and from what Louis could observe, the feelings were reciprocated.

Louis never really understood why he decided to hope.

He wishes he could back out. One time he brought this up to Merrick, and she had just screamed to his face about making commitments and promises they have to keep.

“You know why,” he had instead said.

Merrick cocked her head in the side then frowned. Then she rolled her eyes back at him.

“Well, suck it up,” said Merrick. “Get all the experience you can, because in the next two years we’d be running the same event.”

“Merrick! Louis!” their Sports Editor slash one of the four co-heads of the Prom committee called out. “The balloons could come in any minute, can you wait for them in the parking lot?”

They both nodded and left.

part iv: camera

Louis had taken a ton of pictures that night. The venue, the entrances, the dances and the catering. He had also taken a ton of pictures, even the intimate moments between young high school couples for the sake of documentation because why not.

Louis had been behind the lens when he saw Nicki and Lestat in an intimate embrace in the dance floor. Lestat looked dashing as always, and Nicki had been too. There was no one as handsome and dazzling as Lestat, no one ever is, but Nicki almost was and they were blinding together.

So when they shared a kiss, Louis felt his heart in his throat. He had left and locked himself in the restroom. He covered his mouth, trying to muffle any sound. How pathetic, crying in a prom night that wasn’t for him.

When he had calmed down, Louis made the decision to leave. He could not handle it. Louis wiped his tears and opened the door from the cubicle he stayed at, then splashed water to his face, trying to remove puffiness from his face.

The door of the men’s room opened and there came in Nicki.

“Louis, right?” he asked gently. Nicki knew his name, Louis had always been associated with Lestat, but he still asked. Perhaps Nicki thought it was rude. This was their first time talking to each other after all. “Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing,” brushed off Louis, massaging his cheeks and eyes. “Something personal,” then he paused thinking what to say next. “Something from home.”

Louis never did claim he was good at lying.

“Are you leaving?” he had asked not out of concern, but maybe curiosity.

“Yes,” said Louis. “I need to go home, Mama had been calling me nonstop.”

Nicki had eyed the camera that hand around Louis’s neck.

“They’re announcing the Prom King and Queen soon,” stated Nicki. “Lestat might actually have a good chance winning, don’t you want to stay a bit.”

He wanted to. But Louis couldn’t. He already knew the results. The newspaper club always had close ties to the prom committee—many of their editors were prom committee members. Louis had seen the ballot counts.

Lestat was third in the running.

Louis had a gut feeling that if you removed the votes of every homophobic student in attendance, Lestat would’ve won in a landslide. But you couldn’t. And now he was third, behind the school’s quarterback and the MVP of the basketball team.

“It’s urgent, I think,” Louis sighed. “The board will understand.”

They wouldn’t. More specifically, Merrick wouldn’t. She was meticulous about many things—her appearance, her grades, and especially their paper. Thankfully, their current Editor-in-Chief was one of the kindest people Louis had ever met. He was banking on her understanding, once Louis tells her his own reason of leaving. It was just up to Louis to find a more believable lie later on.

“Give me your camera,” said Nicki, his hand outstretched towards Louis. “I can take them for you. I don’t have any experience in photojournalism, but bad pictures are better than none, yes?”

It was in that moment, Louis had known, that Nicki knew of his true feelings towards Lestat. This was an olive branch, in a way. His apology? Perhaps, but there’s no way of knowing.

If Nicki had known just in a few minutes of meeting Louis, could Lestat have already known even before that?

Was dating Nicki his way of letting Louis down as gently as possible?

There was no way of knowing. And Louis was left with no answers, no closure and no one to ask.

Nicki was right. Photos taken by Nicki were better than having nothing at all.

Louis handed over his camera, telling instructions in his shaky raspy voice how to use it. He was kind and gentle, eagerly listening to Louis’s instructions. Louis had shown him his previous photos, just to show him how the angles were supposed to look like, and how to use the rule of thirds.

And with that Louis had left school, trusting Nicki with more than his camera—with more than the photos.

part v: trust

Merrick had liked the photos that Louis submitted as his.

“Passable,” she said. Louis had grown accustomed towards Merrick and her impossible standards. Passable meant good. Passable meant worthy of publishing. Passable meant she was impressed. 

Louis had never been good at lying, but this time he got away with it. 

It was a secret kept between him and Nicki. The latter gave his word that he never breathed a word towards anyone—not even Lestat.

He trusted him.

Whether it was regarding the photos or something else entirely, Louis trusted him still.

 act ii: junior year

I'm wondering—

Are you my best friend?

Feel's like a river's rushing through my mind

I wanna ask you

If this is all just in my head

My heart is pounding tonight

I wonder

part i: denim skirt

Louis was in Lestat’s home, helping them pack away things to donate on a charity drive for victims of a fire three neighborhoods away.

Lestat was upstairs, dramatically mourning the loss of clothes that no longer fit—most of which he hadn’t touched in over a year. Meanwhile, Louis was in the living room with Gabrielle, packing up lamps, linens, and old sheets.

He was folding a blanket when something at the edge of a box caught his eye: a denim skirt, soft-looking and worn at the seams, with a small slit in the back. Delicate embroidery decorated the bottom corner, of pink and yellow butterflies in flight.

Louis held it in his hands, completely still. Mesmerized.

“Do you want it?” Gabrielle’s voice startled him from behind.

“Oh!” he said quickly. “I was just packing. I didn’t even know you had skirts…”

She chuckled, her gaze soft. Gabrielle’s wardrobe had changed over time. Her clothes are now looser, more androgynous in style. “That was from a long time ago. Vintage.”

“I bet someone would love to get it,” Louis said quietly, eyes still on the embroidery, feeling the stitches on his finger.

“Well, that someone could be you, if you want it,” she offered him a smile. “It fits your figure, I bet.”

“I…” He hesitated, then held the skirt up to his waist, glancing toward the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. He imagined it. How it might feel to wear it. The weight. The shape. “I don’t think I can.”

“You can just take it and wear it once you’re ready?” she suggested.

And Louis was tempted just for that. He can stuff it in the bottom of his closet, or below his mattress. Then he can wear it, alone in his room.

But if his mother caught him—or even Paul—he would be as good as dead. Kicked out of his own home, kicked out of the will.

And if he wants to fulfill the dream of studying somewhere far for college, he would need his own trust too.

“It’s beautiful, Gabrielle,” he said honestly, folding the skirt back with care. “But someone else will be happy to have it.”

She studied him for a moment, then nodded. “If you say so.”

part ii: nicki

Lestat probably hadn’t notice, but he had been slipping away.

There was never a reason to be mad, Lestat and Louis were just friends. If Louis entered a relationship and the other guy spends an absurdly amount of time with his best friend than Louis, he would immediately break up with him. Because that’s how much time Louis and Lestat spent together as best friends. Or at least, how much time they used to spend together.

So when Louis and Lestat turned into a trio, of Louis, Lestat and Nicki, he didn’t exactly complain. And so when he tried to pull away, tired of being a third wheel to a couple who was a grade higher than him, it wasn’t noticeable at all. It felt natural. And so Louis, Lestat and Nicki had turned into Lestat and Nicki.

Lestat hadn’t notice, but their movie nights were no longer a regular thing but rather there were weeks—even months—in between sessions. He hadn’t notice, his days were too full.

There was never a reason to be mad, and Louis was disappointed anyway.

Their relationship had been the talk of the town, which—unfortunately—includes Florence de Pointe du Lac and her bible study. 

Florence and her friends, the other housewives of their neighborhood, call themselves ‘Wives under Christ’ where the tight-knit group of six women meet every Saturday morning for their bible study and prayer circle. And once they’re done with the prayers, it was when they start verbally lashing anyone who wasn’t the definition of a picture perfect righteous southern Catholic. They hide behind the word of God and bible verses as they slander the names of the people.

“They say he’s always with that boy now,” Florence murmured, folding her napkin just so as she sipped on her tea.
Mrs. Mayfair arched a brow. “The violinist?”
Florence nodded. “Mmm. Nicolas. You know the type. Foreign, artsy. Always draped around him like it’s proper.”

“I heard they would just go out on public and display affection ,” another lady grimmed. “Right in public! Where children could watch!”
“Well,” Mrs. Mayfair said, lips pursed, “maybe they just need to be reminded of what’s right.”

Florence gave a clipped laugh. “For Lestat maybe, there’s hope. That blond white boy used to have a girl in the arms. For the other one? No hope for him at all. He better pray hard for forgiveness and change his ways if he even wants to see the gates.”

Mrs. Mayfair cackled. “The only gates he’s seeing are the ones to Hell, and even those might be locked to keep him out.”
“Oh stop,” one of them giggled. “You’ll scare the devil off with that boy’s sins!”

The table burst into light, saccharine laughter. Their hands fanning faces, and their pearls clinking against the porcelain of their teacups, as if they’d just shared a harmless joke instead of condemning someone for their identity.

Louis stood in the hallway, just out of sight.

part iii: colors

“So you’re with Frenchie tonight,” said Merrick as soon as Louis entered through the classroom doors.

They were in one of the spare classrooms, the one nearest to the gym which they dubbed as the headquarters, where they can dump all of their things and prepare for the event later on. They have stacked the tables and chairs to make way for boxes and folded tarps and signs and many other miscellaneous things. It is a mess in this room, but at least the gymnasium looked a bit better.

Louis was wearing a deep red trousers and a white tee. With him, he carried his garment bag that contains his long sleeves and blazer for later tonight. He ignored Merrick and proceeded to hung the coat to the clothing rack inside the room.

 Merrick wasn’t all that ready as well, her hair and makeup had been done, with her hair in an updo, strands decorating the sides of her face.

They were all busy preparing from prom that was  seven hours away.

Because he was part of the Prom’s steering committee. Not as one of the heads—nope, but Merrick already had that position planned for the two of them next year. Currently, he was just assigned as the head of the Logistics and Procurement team which meant working with Merrick, who’s on Technicals.

“We’re going as friends,” he said, then he got his tablet out, which contained all information regarding deliveries. 

“Yes but isn’t it weird? He just broke up with his boyfriend yesterday and he’s with you later?”

Louis eyed her. “Would you rather I leave him alone and miserable? He’s my friend first, before anything else.”

“You’re Lestat’s friend,” said Merrick. “But Lestat’s not just your friend. Get it?”

“I don’t, but all I can say is none of it is your business anyway,” he glared at her. “Whatever he has with Nicki is their business and theirs alone. I am here to support Lestat if he needs my support.”

“If you say so. I believe you,” she said. “But do you believe you?”

“I’m just making sure he’s okay.”

“You always are,” Merrick said softly. “That’s kind of the point.”

Louis’s shoulders stiffened. He didn’t answer right away, instead pretending to triple-check the delivery list which he already had memorized. He did just got off the phone with the chairs and tables supplier earlier, as well as with the catering. Everything was going smoothly.

Merrick didn’t push, just kept her voice light. She tapped the garment bag he had carried and hung. “Can I guess the color of your suit later?” she had asked, and before Louis could reply she had continued on. “Let me guess, you’re wearing a red suit on—same color as your slacks right now—black dress shirt. No tie?”

That was a good guess. “What about it?”

“Well, guess who’s color scheme is awfully similar,” said Merrick.

Louis went still.

“Black velvet trousers, a red lace shirt, a cropped black blazer…” Merrick counted off. “Oh wait, I think I just described Lestat’s outfit.”

“How’d you know what he’s wearing?”

“We got to chattin’ weeks ago,” she had said. “I was buying my dress the same shop he bought his shirt.”

“That was accidental.”

“Louis.”

He tapped on his tablet, which has the excel sheet for other committee requests opened. “Also, I saw that your team just submitted the request for an extra microphone last night. If you think you guys can get one at the last minute, you’re out of your mind.”

“As opposed to swooping in the minute you think it's available?” She cocked her head. “A window of opportunity, opening and you’re already jumpin’ in head first. Down to the ground to crash and burn.”

Louis’s eyes widened at her. Merrick stood her ground, looking straight into Louis’s eyes.

Her green eyes were sharp, and yet unreadable. He felt so vulnerable with her.

“I’m just saying… be careful, yeah?”

“I’m always careful.”

“When it comes to him?” she sighed. “You forget yourself, Lou.”

part iv: dance

Louis didn’t even hesitate. He walked straight out, heading toward the corner of the lot where he knew Lestat always parked. The familiar car came into view—and next to it, Lestat stood in the exact outfit Merrick had predicted. The same clothes Louis had imagined so many times they felt like memories. In his hands was a Tiffany-blue paper bag.

It knocked the wind out of him.

No matter how many times he rehearsed this moment in his head, nothing could’ve prepared him for how effortlessly beautiful Lestat looked. And nothing could slow the erratic pace of his heart.

“I thought we’d just meet up inside?” asked Louis. It takes a great deal of self control to not just vomit poetics on how the outline of Lestat’s waist wasn’t driving him mad.

“I thought so too,” Lestat replied, a glint in his eyes. “But it felt wrong, somehow. Crass, even. To let my not-date walk through the door alone.” Then he smiled—and Louis nearly forgot how to breathe. “I brought you a gift.”

From the Tiffany bag, Lestat pulled out an acrylic case. Inside was a boutonniere: a dark red rose nestled among green leaves and tiny white angel’s breath.

“You didn’t have to…” Louis murmured, even as his hands reached out instinctively.

Then he noticed. Lestat was already wearing the exact same one, pinned neatly to his lapel.

“I know,” Lestat said simply, as he carefully clipped the flower to Louis’s coat. “I bought them weeks ago. It would’ve been a waste not to use them.”

Oh.

Right.

Louis mustered up all the courage to smile towards Lestat. “What if you and Nicki patch things up? What would he think if he came to the venue and saw me wearing this?”

Lestat scoffed. “If a breakup is what he wants, then that’s what he gets. I won’t run after someone who values his pride over me.”

He straightened Louis’s boutonniere with a softness that made Louis ache.

“He’s not coming to prom. And frankly, there’s no reason to dwell on boys who can’t decide what they want and change their minds like the wind. Let’s go inside and enjoy ourselves.”

Louis nodded. But no matter how warm Lestat’s words were, it didn’t change the sting.

It didn’t feel good knowing he might just be the backup plan.

The party carried on, and with most of Louis’s responsibilities already taken care of, he settled by the bleachers.

Lestat had claimed he was fine —but when he reached for his eleventh cupcake of the night (he’d insist it was just four, maybe three, but that was a blatant lie), Louis couldn’t help but worry. It didn’t help that a few prom committee members and chaperones were already side-eyeing Lestat’s emotional stress-eating, ready to pounce with concern thinly veiled as judgment and block Lestat for any more desserts.

Louis had promptly messaged their group chat, reminding everyone that his family had sponsored the dessert table.

So yes, Lestat could go back for thirds, fourths, or tenths if he wanted to.

And with Lestat’s gargantuan appetite paired with a freshly broken heart, Louis found himself to be the opposite—he had no appetite at all.

He didn’t feel hungry. Just hollow. A quiet ache pressed against his ribs. An ache for his friend, for his own confused heart, and maybe, a little, for that moment earlier two weeks ago when he’d paused in front of a shop window, eyes caught on the shimmer of a dress. Wondering what it would be like if he were the one wearing it.

Hungry eyes played.

The same song from Louis’s favorite movie, the one Lestat claimed to be his and Nicki’s favorite couple film too. The same song that played last year, when Lestat and Nicki kissed for the first time. The same song Louis walked out on last year. And suddenly—

“Do you want to dance?”

Louis whipped his head around just to make sure it was really Lestat, that it wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. “Right now?”

“I know you love to dance,” he replied, nonchalance dripping, oblivious to the hammering heart inside of Louis. Lestat then stood up, stretching an arm towards Louis. “Come on, dance with me.”

Louis had imagined this scenario more times than he could count. Lights low, music swelling, the crowd parting just enough. Lestat asking. Him saying yes. In his mind, it always ended in something golden, like the best parts of those teen dramas he had mocked but secretly adored and loved so much.

But here? Now?

It didn’t feel like a dream coming true.

It felt like life had skipped a page. Like he was getting something he asked for, but in the wrong context, with the wrong weight hanging over it. Lestat had just broken up with Nicki yesterday .

And nobody talked about it—but everybody knew . Everyone suspected that Louis carried a torch for Lestat, and had for a while.

Was this real? Was this a joke?

So he asked: “Are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

“What would other people think?” asked Louis, nervousness ringing his nerves.

“I don’t think they’d care. Besides, I already broke up with Nicki. Nothing wrong with dancing with my friend.”

.“That’s not what I mean, Lestat,” he sighed, it was hard to spell it out towards Lestat. He was always so confident in his skin, not caring what others thought. Unlike Louis who had to give a front to please his family, and the church, and even his peers. “What if they think I’m gay?”

“And? Would that really be such a terrible thing?”

“No, but,” Louis bit his lip, his chest felt heavy. “I’m  gay… but what if people found out if I am?” What if this dance, this one little thing, gave everyone the permission to confirm what they’d only guessed? What if it meant more sessions, more talks, more warnings about sin and salvation and how he was slowly damning himself?

He remembered his promise to Merrick, the one time him and Merrick were civil towards each other.

 I don’t know when or where, but after graduation, we leave. We pack our bags and go somewhere far away. Someplace new. Where you can be you.

Or that night in the tent with Lestat, the night before Lestat had asked Nicki out and everything changed.

I’ve thought about it. I love Gracie, Paul, and Mama, but if I want to be myself, I need to leave.

And who will you be, once you leave home?

I’ll find out when I get there.

"It’s just a year and a half. I just have to make it through senior year, graduate, and then—then I can leave. Go to college. Be myself . But right now? I can’t Lestat. Not here, where everyone knows everybody.”

Lestat instead and smiled. They went back and forth until Lestat managed to convince him.

“It’s just a dance, mon ami,” my friend. “Don’t overthink it.”

Don’t overthink it.

Don’t overthink the way Lestat had winked, easy and teasing towards Louis.

Don’t overthink the way Lestat had placed a hand on Louis’s waist as if it has always meant to rest there.

Don’t overthink the way Lestat had guided Louis to dance until—

Until Louis was able to lead them both. Until Lestat can have Louis dip, placing his trust on Lestat not to drop him. Until Louis can have fun and twirl Lestat around the way he liked.

It was easy to lose himself, in the arms of Lestat. It was easy to forget that his love wasn’t reciprocated. It was easy to forget the eyes trained on the pair like a hawk, ready to message Louis’s mother on what her eldest son was up to in the dance floor.

Then Lestat brought up UCLA.

“They have a nice music program as well. I can see myself thriving there,” he said easily, as if it was him simply changing his mind about what to eat for dinner.

Louis can’t help but frown. Was Lestat changing his entire dream just because of Nicki?

He can’t help but curse Nicki in his head. He already has the perfect guy for him, Lestat was sweet, thoughtful and charming. Why would they break up in the first place? How could Nicki just easily let this go?

If it were Louis, he would fight tooth and nail just to make Lestat stay. He would make sure that Lestat would never feel unloved not even for one day. He would make sure Lestat would feel it, and not just hear about it. He would pick Lestat again and again.

But instead he says what a friend would say to a friend making crazy decisions. “You’re insane.”

Lestat laughed, throwing his head back.

“I guess I didn’t think you’d want to go there.”

“I didn’t,” then he tilted his head, observing Louis. “But now I do.”

Louis knew better than to hope.

But it bloomed in him anyway—wild and messy and real.

Hope was a dangerous thing. It was also relentless.

What if college wasn’t just his ticket out? What if it was theirs ?

But the illusion broke just as quickly as it formed.

What was it? That Louis was an exception?

He supposed he was. Just not the kind he’d wanted to be.

Not the person Lestat wanted, but the person he wanted to see happy. The project. The best friend. The one Lestat would bend over backwards for—so long as it was in the name of helping him find someone else.

Someone else.

Louis swallowed down the bitter taste rising in his throat. Because Lestat prided himself on being Louis’s champion, not his partner. His cheerleader, not his choice.

So instead of saying what he really felt, instead of saying what he truly wanted, Louis smiled tightly and said the only thing he could: “You’re impossible.”

“I am your best friend,” Lestat declared proudly, nudging him. “It is in my job description and sole responsibility to make sure you will not die a virgin.”

Louis laughed. Because it was easier to laugh than to let the ache show. His chest hurt in that dull, unbearable way it always did when he was reminded of just how much Lestat didn’t see it. Didn’t see him. Not the way he wanted to be seen. Not the way he looked at Lestat when he wasn’t paying attention. Not the way he’d memorized every version of that smile, the way he’d longed to be more than just the person Lestat confided in.

He was tired. Tired of the pretending. Tired of falling for moments that weren’t meant to mean anything. Tired of having to remind himself over and over again that Lestat didn’t feel the same. That this was just friendship. Just teasing. Just Lestat being Lestat.

And yet, a part of him wanted to give up–on hoping, on waiting, on holding out for something that might never come. Maybe it would be easier to just stop wanting altogether. To stop dreaming up what-ifs and could-bes. To stop seeing every fleeting kindness from Lestat as something more than it was.

But he couldn’t. Not fully. Not yet.

Because even now, standing in the glow of the dance floor, with music in the background and Lestat’s laugh still echoing in his ears, it still felt like love. And Louis didn’t know how to stop loving someone who made the world feel just a little less heavy. Even if that someone only ever saw him as a best friend.

They were, afterall, just friends.

part v: trust

“What happened to the floor spotlights?” Louis asked one of the other members of the prom committee. “The extra ones we borrowed from the Theatre Club?”

Prom had just ended, and while most of the students had already left to attend the afterparty some jock was throwing, Louis and the rest of the committee and a few lingering volunteers were left cleaning up the venue.

Lestat had wanted to stay. He insisted on waiting so he could drive Louis home. But Louis told him to go on ahead. He was graduating soon, after all, and he deserved to enjoy every last bit of high school before leaving for LA. There was no reason for him to stick around for the dull cleanup duty, especially when it was Louis’s responsibility to begin with.

He told Lestat he plans to ride with Merrick’s car, to which Lestat raised a brow. Lestat had known Merrick for nearly as long as he had known Louis and he had never particularly liked her. It was also obvious that Lestat had thought the case was the same for Louis, afterall, Louis had done nothing but complain about Merrick.

Louis just sighed and left it at that.

“I think someone put them in one of the spare classrooms,” a girl from the finance team offered helpfully. “Like, our original storage room was, like, suuuper full and Jessica P. thought it’d be a good idea to put it somewhere far awaaay,” she said, waving vaguely toward the hall. “Y’know, to keep it safe and away from thieves?”

“I don’t think anyone would bother stealing those, considering they’re broken. That’s why they’re just backups,” Louis replied, already walking off. “Thanks for the tip.”

“No probs!” she called after him as he disappeared down the hallway.

Louis jogged toward the east wing, where the spare rooms were usually left unlocked after events. He opened door after door, peeking into storage spaces filled with stacked chairs and bins of glitter-dusted streamers. He was halfway down the hall when he heard something—faint, but unmistakable.

Crying.

He paused in front of the spare music room. The one Nicki always used to practice in. The same one where Lestat first met him, lured by the sound of violin strings vibrating through the corridor walls.

So it was no surprise, really, when Louis gently opened the door and found Nicki inside.

“Nicki?” he asked.

The classroom was dark, except for a single bulb in the corner casting a warm pool of yellow light over the old piano bench. Nicki was sitting there, hunched over, shoulders trembling.

Nicki looked up. His eyes were red, his cheeks streaked with tears.

“Oh. It’s you.” He let out a half-laugh, half-sob. “Of all people, it had to be you.”

 “I didn’t even know you were here.” Louis started as he closed the door behind him. “Prom, I mean.”

“Changed my mind,” he sniffed. “I never—I didn’t really wanna break up. Lestat just—” then he hiccuped, a strangled voice. “I wanted to see him and then… I saw him dancing with you.”

Louis felt the air catch in his lungs.

“I—” He paused, unsure. What was he supposed to say? I’m sorry?

Nicki’s eyes shifted and looked straight towards Louis. “Always an after thought,” he laughed bitterly. “Always a note in the margins when it comes to you.”

“You’re not even making sense,” Louis said, softly.

“I’m barely making sense of me either,” Nicki whispered.

Louis stepped forward and gently rested a hand on Nicki’s arm. “Nicki… are you okay?”

“Tell me, Louis,” Nicki said, meeting his eyes. “Be honest with me. Did he tell you that he’s changed his mind about Columbia?”

“He did,” Louis replied, voice quiet. “He said he’s going to UCLA instead.”

“Your dream school…” Nicki’s gaze narrowed, searching. “Is it UCLA?”

Louis blinked. Why would that matter? Didn’t they fight because Nicki wanted Cambridge and Lestat still wanted Columbia? The only reason Lestat was going to UCLA now was because Columbia University, New York  City, was their plan. Lestat and Nicki’s. And without Nicki, it was too painful for Lestat  to go through with it.

“Yes,” Louis admitted.

“Of course it is,” Nicki muttered, eyes flicking to some distant, unreachable place. “Do you know why we fought? I know it was only yesterday, but he must’ve told you. He tells you everything. He probably told you the minute it was over.”

“He said…” Louis trailed off. “He said you got overwhelmed. He was telling you about his ‘grand plans’ once you and him arrive in New York. That you got overwhelmed how he planned every single minute detail and scared you off…”

Nicki let out a scoff, sharp and small. “That’s rich. That’s not how the fight happened.”

Louis looked at him then, really looked. “Then what did you guys fight about?”

Nicki went still. His shoulders were rigid, his jaw tight as if holding back something too heavy to speak aloud. His eyes drifted to somewhere far away, his eyes lighting up from the singular bulb inside the music room.

“It’s not about what we fought about,” he said finally, voice hollow. “It’s about what he didn’t do.”

Louis frowned. “What he didn’t do?”

“He didn’t stop me.” Nicki’s voice cracked at the edges. “He didn’t fight for me. I was yelling, walking out—and he just… let me. Like letting me go was easier than saying he was wrong.”

Louis’s heart sank. “Nicki…”

Nicki pressed a fist to his mouth, breathing through the ache. “I wanted him to care enough to stop me. To say something, anything. I was always the one to cave first. Always the one to say sorry. This time… I wanted to see if he would.”

Louis searched for something to say. Anything. “Maybe he didn’t know how to stop you. Maybe… maybe he thought he was respecting your choice.”

Nicki looked at him, a tired smile tugging at the corner of his lips, laced with something bitter. “Then he never knew me at all. Or maybe… maybe he just didn’t want us enough.”

“He does,” answered Louis. “Nicki, trust me, he does. He wants you still. The breakup was still fresh in his mind, he’s pretending he’s okay but he’s not. He…” Louis took a deep breath. “He loves you Nicki. You should give him a chance.”

“And what then? I cave again? I let him win again? Until the next fight and I’m the one forgiving, the one trying to forget what he didn’t do?”

Louis waited, and was surprised when Nicki waited too, like he was asking for an answer.

“I don’t know,” Louis said softly.

“That’s the thing,” Nicki sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know either.”

There was a silence between them, but it wasn’t heavy anymore—just tired. Honest.

Then Nicki said something different. Something quiet and certain.

“I want you to be the one to decide,” he said.

Louis blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Last year, back in prom too, you trusted me,” Nicki said. “And this time, I’m putting my trust in you. ”

“Trust in what?”

“All I want is for Lestat to fight for me,” he said, voice trembling, raw. “To fight for us. ”

He looked at Louis with something fragile but resolute in his gaze. “So tell me… what would Lestat do, if he knew that all those dreams he had for us—all those plans—they could still happen? That everything could still be ours, if he just chose to fight for it? That what we had… it wouldn’t be over if he simply chose it be.”

“You’re not—” Louis sputtered. “I don’t understand…”

Nicki didn’t explain.

He just looked at Louis—really looked—and for once, he wasn’t angry or sad or bitter. He just seemed tired. Like he’d already said too much and didn’t have the strength to say more.

“That’s the thing,” Nicki murmured. “You’re not supposed to understand.”

Louis blinked, heart thudding.

“Then why—”

“Because he will,” Nicki said, stepping back. “If you tell him. If you decide to.”

A silence stretched between them, the kind that made time feel like it had stopped mid-breath. Louis opened his mouth, but the words scattered before they could form. What was Nicki asking of him? To deliver a message? To push Lestat into something he might not be ready for? Or was it something simpler, something heavier?

Nicki didn’t say goodbye. He just gave a small, tired nod, turned, and walked off into the dark. Not waiting for Louis to follow.

Louis stood there a long time.

The air still smelled like dust and sweat and precipitation. The light flickered faintly, as if the singular bulb had been on its last threads, and yet it emitted warmth towards the room. It felt lonely, with how Louis stood there alone.

And in that stillness, Louis understood.

He understood what Nicki had asked.

Nicki was asking him to decide for the both of them. To make a choice in a relationship he wasn’t even part of. Nicki, worn down by just one year of loving Lestat, just wanted to know that he mattered enough. That Lestat would fight for them. That he wouldn’t just let go the moment things got hard.

But Lestat had always believed that love meant giving someone what they wanted, even if it meant losing them. If Nicki wanted a breakup, then he’d give him that. No questions. No fight. That if that's what Nicki desires, then there’s nothing he can do but step aside and leave.

And now Louis was caught in the in-between. Asked to be the voice, the bridge, the push.

Asked to decide.

He just had to explain to Lestat. Relay what Nicki truly wanted. Say the words. And then…

And then what?

Louis didn’t know.

But a decision must be made.

After a few more moments of stillness, Louis turned the light off with the flip of the switch by the corner, its ‘click’ eliminating any source of light the room had. He closed the door behind him, and the abandoned spare music room was once again abandoned.

act iii: senior year

If you—

Are too good to be true

And would it be alright if I—

Pulled you closer

part i: pink cardigan

“Well, that can’t be right,” his mother muttered, her tone sharp with distaste.

“It has my name on it,” Louis replied.

“Your cousin must’ve put the wrong tag. It’s probably meant for Grace,” she insisted.

“It’s much too big for Grace,” he pointed out.

Her eyes snapped toward him. “And why would your good ol’ cousin Nellie give you a woman’s cardigan?”

“It’s not a woman’s,” he said calmly. “It’s just pink.”

She scoffed, her voice low and bitter. “And what? Fill your head with ideas? The same way that Lioncourt boy tried to poison you?”

“It's a waste to throw it out, Mama,” Louis said, trying to keep his voice even. “We can just donate it to the church tomorrow.”

“Do whatever you want. I just want it gone ,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

And if Louis didn’t do as he said—if he quietly folded the cardigan and tucked it into his suitcase, ready to take with him when he left for college—well, that would be his secret alone.

part ii: jonah

Louis was never meant to be anything else but strangers with Jonah Macon, a guy who happened to be in his grade.

He knew him in passing: an extraordinary swimmer who often represented their school at district meets. Jonah excelled in History and English, though he lagged a bit in Physics and Computer Science. They ran in different social circles, and it wouldn’t have been surprising if they graduated without ever speaking a word to each other.

But supposed parallel lines sometimes veer off course.

Their collision happened through the school paper. Louis was voted to be Science Feature editor, a was top of the class in Biology and Chemistry. Louis thought it was stupid, to vote him for the position simply because of his seniority and his grades.

If he were to choose, he wanted to be a Feature editor, not confined to only Science articles.

Merrick claimed that this position is for people with an actual passion. Louis just flipped her off.

To get creative, Louis started writing an article about kinesthetics, and how physics are able to work in the realm of sports. So Louis found himself observing the swim team’s practice sessions and—

And then he met Jonah.

It started with them talking, late hours after school without the knowledge of his coach nor his teammates. Then suddenly texting, hiding their phones so no one would be the wiser. Then they’d hang out outside, in the back of the cinema, whispering and sharing popcorn.

No one knew about their friendship, much less their romantic inclination towards each other. Not the people in the swim team, not anyone from the school  paper, not their parents, not their friends, and not even Lestat.

No one knew except the two of them that Louis had liked Jonah, and Jonah felt the same way too.

But Jonah came from a different kind of trap from where Louis had been. Where Louis was born to a family who had lived in New Orleans for more than two centuries now, to family of good Catholics that go to church and bible study. Jonah belongs to a military family, ones that believe anything but the traditional republican lifestyle was deemed immoral.

Kisses were hidden in the dark. Telling each other sweet nothings were only whispered. Contacts were never saved, just an unknown number in their respective phones.

Until one day, Jonah had pulled him close and kissed him deeper—deeper than they ever dared. Urgent and unrestrained. And when they drove away to fool around in the woods as it rained, God shall be their only witness when they allowed themselves to experience something raw, something real. It was the first time Louis had entrusted his body to someone else, to let someone touch him in ways he never dared to, and it was riveting and freeing but altogether terrifying and nerve-wracking all at once.

The next day when Louis had passed by the school halls, he tried to catch Jonah’s eye.

He was ignored, none of the teasing glances they share together.

The day after that—again, nothing.

And again.

And again.

It took Louis twelve days to realize that Jonah had been completely done with him. That they were nothing but strangers to each other. That they were back to being strangers. 

Just strangers, just like how it was always supposed to be.

part iii: inbox

part iv: promise

The door to the music room had creaked open, and was lightly closed. “There you are,” came a quiet voice. Merrick.

Louis, who had been hiding the past hour or so, didn’t bother to greet her. He buried his head further into his hands and knees, the fabric of his pants had been damp from the endless stream of his tears that can’t stop. With how much he had cried, Louis can’t help but feel convinced he’s past water now, that perhaps he had started crying blood instead.

There was a gentle nudge, followed by the soft thud of someone settling down beside him. The rustle of fabric brushed against his side, and he felt the lightest graze of a shoulder against his. Merrick didn’t say anything.

Louis stayed hunched over, the only sound in the room the occasional sniffle he failed to hold back. And Merrick simply sat next to him, in the dark with stillness and noiselessness of a shadow. If it weren’t for the warmth of her presence, the quiet rhythm of her breathing, or the soft press of their shoulders, Louis might’ve thought he’d imagined her entirely.

“Jonah is a dick,” started Merrick, breaking the symphony of the ringing silence paired with Louis’s occasional sniffles.

“It’s not his fault,” Louis murmured, though there was no conviction behind it. Louis cannot dispute the fact that Jonah’s a dick because he was a dick. But Louis understood him, in a way, and that somehow made it worse.

“He should’ve never ignored you,” Merrick snapped, her tone curling with anger. “He can’t just get his dick wet and then dip out.”

They didn’t exactly sleep together. Fooled around in the back of Jonah’s car and that was it. “We were never really friends in school anyway.”

“He owes you an explanation at least.”

“He owes me nothing, he’s not like my boyfriend or anything. We didn’t even go on a date,” he rasped out, voice breaking midway.

There was no closure. There will never be closure. What was left was the strange feeling of depreciation and self-doubt, the hopelessness that perhaps this was the best Louis could hope for in the realm of romance. Quiet pining and secret endeavors.

“The feelings were mutual on the two of you. He might have never been your boyfriend but you two sounded pretty exclusive to me,” she answered.

“He got scared,” Louis stated despite it being obvious. “I also got scared.”

Merrick sighed loudly. Silence followed after, which was odd considering it was Merrick. He had expected Merrick to continue on with verbally attacking Jonah, yet she didn’t.

“Why are you here anyway?” Louis had asked, his voice was dry but he had stopped crying. It was progress.

“You’re my date, Louis,” she said as a matter of fact.

“And?”

“And its suspicious that you ran off, considering you’re co-head of the prom committee. Let people think we ran off together, its better than me being alone because my date and co-head left me”

“You forced me to be your date,” he said, head whipping towards her direction. “Forced me to be co-head too, just signed my name up and didn’t even ask–”

“Louis–”

“Same goes with the paper, I joined because I wanted to try out photography—you were the one who just made me sign up every year,” he continued. There was fire inside of him, forcing him to stand up and pace around. Merrick followed suit. “And what? Suddenly I’m in journalism competitions—not for photojournalism, no, no, no. But for writing. You forced me to write countless articles then return it with more notes and annotations than what I have submitted. Do you think I don’t notice that you only do that with me? I don’t even wanna be Science Feature editor, you had me elected anyway. And people voted—of course they would—simply because they’re terrified of you.”

“You’re actually not mad at me,” she replied. “You’re mad at Jonah.”

“No,” said Louis gravely, voice low. “I’m not mad at Jonah. Disappointed, maybe. I am mad at you ,” he pointed a finger towards her. “We don’t even like each other! You always think I’m out to get you in every step in the way, telling me to leave and go away but you’re the one dictating what I should do.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. Everything’s a contest with you. Every test, every event, every club—even Yale! I don’t even know Yale’s your dream school! I surely didn’t know you failed. But then, suddenly you’re mad at me all because I passed? And when you found out I don’t wanna go, guess what? You’re. Still. Mad.”

“You got it all wrong,” she said lowly, looking away.

“ My birthday, I planned a small disco themed night just me and my friends and what did you do? Throw a block party, invite half the neighborhood and spend thousands of dollars. Why? Just to prove you could?”

“I had that party planned months before your own sweet sixteen.”

“And you were mad I got my license first! Its not my fault you were scared of starting the test. I did what I had to, went to driving school, learned, and actually tested then got my license. It’s not even my fault that you’re too much of a coward to take the test, but suddenly I’m in the wrong? ”

Merrick didn’t even respond.

“You turned church fundraising into a full-blown campaign the moment I earned more than you. You made spreadsheets and progress trackers— for a bake sale. When me and Paul started tap dancing on Sundays, you just had to drag your little sister and start a church band, huh?”

Merrick stared at him, lips parted like she wanted to interrupt but couldn’t.

“And when we work together on group projects, you roll your eyes at everything I say. Act like I’m dead weight. Like I’m holding you back. But you still pick me. You always pick me. Then if we were anything below perfect, you’d act like I just made a stain to your perfect little resume,” his voice dropped

Merrick’s green eyes were terrifying. Haunting. Yet she never said a word.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice the prom king thing. You knew the committee was trying to prank me. If I hadn’t figured it out, you would’ve let them do it. Let me get humiliated in front of everyone, like that would be funny.”

This time her eyes widened, head cocking to the side, studying Louis. Merrick stayed quiet.

“I told you about Jonah because I thought—just this once—you might actually understand. Not because I wanted to pretend we were friends. Not because I needed your help. Just because I thought maybe, maybe , someone out there could understand me. And yet again, you’re turning this into a big deal.”

The silence afterward was deafening. 

Blood rushed throughout Louis, making every heartbeat hammer withing him. His face felt hot, his breaths staggered and loud. His nails dug into his palms that it was almost bleeding.

Then quietly, barely above a whisper, Merrick spoke. “Are you done?”

This time, Louis was the one not responding.

She sighed. The heels of her shoes clacked against the music room’s floorboards as she paced through the room. The sound of the chair being pushed echoed and she sat there, eyes never leaving Louis’s.

“You are right, I see things as a competition. It is not just with you, but it is often with you. But you got it all wrong, Louis. I am not always out to get you as you have thought,” her gaze went sharper. “Let’s go one by one, shall we?”

“Here we go again–”

She held up a finger. “I let you talk,” she gestured to the seat in front of her. “Let me talk.”

Louis nodded, he dragged the seat out a bit to create a distance between them. He sat facing the back of the chair, legs spread out, resting his chin on it’s backrest.

“I pushed you because I know—out of everyone in this school—that you’re the only one who can be better than me.”

“That’s absurd.”

“It’s true,” she looked at him point blank. Then she laughed dryly. “God. You don’t see it, don’t you?”

Now Louis was confused. “See what?”

She ran her hand over her hair, her neat updo losing its grip and cascading down, strand by strand. “You’re fucking amazing , Louis,” she breathed out with the slight twinge of anger she always seem to have when she talks to him. “You’re one of the prettiest, smartest, greatest, kindest, cleverest—”

“Now you’re just bullshitting me—”

“Warmest, sweetest, and fucking strongest person I’ve the privilege of knowin’, and you don’t even know it. Worse, you don’t even seem to care, always thinkin’ of yourself as some lonesome average joe.” Then she sighed deeply. “But you were never that,” she whispered. “Never.”

Louis was stunned.

“I was insanely jealous, when I heard from Mama that you got into Yale,” she continued on. “I wasn’t mad you’re passing up Yale because it ain’t your dream school, I’m mad at you passing up Yale for a school you don’t even wanna go to. For fucking Brown. ”

“How did you…?”

“What, you think I don’t know you’re eyeing’ up Brown all of a sudden?” She laughed bitterly. “Please, give me some credit Louis. You think i didn’t notice? How slowly, you’re trying to get away? How you’re pullin’ away from everyone? How surely and slowly you’ve been tryin’ to cut off everyone, even Lestat?”

“That’s…” it was true.

“You’re throwing your life away, trying to pass up so many things: passing up prom, passing up Yale, passing up UCLA, for what? All because Lestat didn’t like you? All because Jonah doesn’t like you enough? Guess what, they’re just boys . You might think you’re gonna end up loveless just ‘cause you’re queer, but they’re just two boys in the millions of gay guys out there!” She shouted. “There’s so many more people out there who would love you, Louis! Life isn’t over because of those two!”

“It’s not just because it’s them two!” he cried out. “It’s everything! I’m so tired Merrick. I just want a completely new slate.”

“A completely new slate where you get rid of everyone even the people you love? You’re fucking insane. You’re in fucking high school, for Christ’s sake! I know it feels pretty much us against the world, we haven’t even started livin’ yet! We’re here, stuck in fucking Louisiana. So why won’t we get the fuck out there and discover what is out there for us. Away from our Mamas, away from every single stupid schoolmate of ours in here. But please for the love of fucking God don’t throw away your dreams as you search for your freedom.”

Louis stayed silent. He didn’t know what to say.

“No one rigged the ballots.”

Now this got Louis’s attention. “What?”

“No one rigged the ballots, Louis,” she whispered. “People actually voted for you because they like you lots. No one thought it was a joke. You just decided to remove your name from the candidates.”

Louis had never been popular. His name floated around simply because it was attached to Lestat’s. They’ve known him as one of the top students of school, but he was never good enough to be salutatorian or even valedictorian.

It was hard to process that people actually had liked him.

“You  know what’s crazy?” she laughed bitterly. “You hated that Lestat was an oblivious fool when it comes to you having a crush on him. That all throughout your life, all throughout the time, you have loved him and he couldn’t see you. And it was ironic because I hate you for the same reason.”

“What do you mean?” he can’t help but ask.

She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and—

Merrick kissed him.

It was over as soon as it started.

“I’m so fucking tired of watching you tear yourself down,” she said. “I wish you could see yourself the way others do. The way I do.”

“I just thought…” His head was spinning.

“That’s the problem,” she cut in. “You thought. You never asked. You’re the one who pushed me away. I loved you, Louis. I was jealous of you—but I never hated you. I couldn’t.”

“I never hated you either. I just… thought you did. But I trusted you. You knew things I never told anyone else—not even Lestat.”

“I remember when you first talked about UCLA,” she smiled faintly. “That trans girl who graduated from our school…”

“She looked so free,” Louis murmured. “I wanted that too. I asked her where she studied. When she said UCLA, I just knew. I had to follow.”

“Then promise me you’ll go. Promise me you won’t give up on that dream. Not for Lestat, not for anyone. Fuck him. Fuck Jonah too. Go to UCLA and live for yourself. At least you got into your dream school. Yale didn’t even want me.”

“I will,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

“I’ve known you for eighteen years, Louis. Since the moment I was born, you were already there. I hit you the first time we met,” she laughed softly. “I don’t know a world without you. But… I think I need to say goodbye to the version of you I know.”

“Why?”

“Because once you leave, there’ll be a new Louis. A version of you I might never meet. And I hope you love him. I loved a version of you that wasn’t real. Maybe now, I’ll learn to love someone real.”

“Maybe I’ll meet a version of you I could finally be friends with.”

“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe this is goodbye. Eighteen years I’ve known you—but I never truly knew you. Not the you that’s coming. And once we graduate… you probably won’t see or hear from me again. Maybe I’ll show up in the papers.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Maybe I’ll write something explosive. Maybe it’ll be my obituary. Either way, our friendship’s run its course. And next time we meet, it better be the real Louis standing in front of me.”

She stepped closer.

“And Louis… when you get out there, introduce the world to the new you. I swear—someone out there is going to lose their mind over you. Because that’s what you deserve,” then she shoved a finger to  his chest. “You absolutely deserve someone who will go crazy for you Louis, because it is what you deserve. Someone who’s willing to run into traffic for you, someone willing to go to jail for you, and someone who’s going to risk their life just to make sure you’re happy. It’s what you deserve and more.”

“That sounds insane.”

“It is. But so are you. So is this world. And that kind of love? That kind of madness? That’s what you’re worth. Swear to me, Louis. Follow your dreams, move away, be all you are and never settle for less.”

“…Okay. I promise.”

After a few more tearful words, they sat in silence, letting it all settle. Eventually, Merrick stood and wiped her face. They left the room and decided to freshen up, back to where their stuff were, back to where Merrick and her beauty kit was.

Louis let her work on him without protest. She covered the puffiness under his eyes using a concealer, thankfully their complexion wasn’t far off of each other. She then added a touch of blush, and on his lips she applied on some gloss. He closed his eyes when she brushed mascara onto his lashes. Her hands were steady, and the quiet closeness felt comforting.

When he looked at his reflection, he absolutely loved it. It was subtle, no one can really tell. But Louis can and he loved it.

It felt nice.

He felt pretty.

Louis can’t help but feel that he wanted to do this everyday. Feel like this everyday.

Merrick then held out the mascara and gloss. “Do you want this?” her eyes easy, a smile on her lips.

He nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay. You can have it.”

Louis felt light. Giddy, even. For the first time in a while, the future didn’t seem so scary.

part v: a decision

act iv: reunion

How could I know

One day I'd wake up feeling more

But I had already reached the shore

Guess we were ships in the night

part i: dress

After meeting up at the airport and dropping off some of Louis’ things at Lestat’s apartment, the two began their tour.

Breakfast was at a diner called Applebee’s, followed by a drive through the campus, where Lestat pointed out building after building with animated commentary. Eventually, they made their way to one of Lestat’s favorite shopping districts.

That’s when Louis saw it.

A dress in the shop window. White porcelain fabric adorned with delicate blue floral prints. Subtle, but beautiful. The puffed sleeves gave it a soft silhouette, and the corset bodice shaped it perfectly on the mannequin.

“Louis? Where’d you go?” Lestat’s voice pulled him back.

Louis blinked, turning to him. “I’m here.”

“No, I meant your mind . Where did that go?”

“Oh. Nothing. Just a silly thought,” Louis replied, brushing it off.

If he quietly took out his phone to search the brand and style of the dress, just to remember it—only he would know. And if he looked it up later and saw the steep price, then swore to save up for it one day—well, that was his secret to keep.

part ii: lestat

“Tell me,” started Louis as they stopped by for some frozen yogurt, finding a bench near the campus fountain. “Why did you break up with Antoinette? I thought you two were pretty serious.”

“It wasn’t pretty serious ,” Lestat said, popping a piece of chopped kiwi into his mouth. “We just went out for six months.”

“That sounds pretty serious to me,” Louis replied, raising a brow. “In Lestat standards, that might even be love.”

“Love? Don’t get ahead of yourself, Louis,” Lestat scoffed. “She was insane. She won’t shut up about how she felt like she was second place or something. About how I should try harder and want me more. Little bit more she’s about to ask me to go on my knees and beg her to stay. Do you see me going down on my knees, begging someone to be with me? That’s never going to happen. Never did with Nicki. Never did with Antoinette. Never will with anyone.”

Louis blinked, surprised by the edge in his tone. “I don’t know, you might find someone you’d go to your knees for one day.”

“I’m above begging someone to stay when they’ve already told me they don’t want me,” Lestat continued, shrugging. “There are billions of people in the world—I’m bound to find someone who won’t make me grovel for a place in their life. If I need to beg and be pathetic for someone, then that’s no longer me.”

Louis hummed, eating another spoonful of yogurt. “So despite being exclusive, you weren't really all that serious, huh.”

He tossed another piece of fruit into his mouth and added more casually, “We only went exclusive because she wouldn’t stop badgering me about it. Which you would’ve known, by the way, if you actually responded to my messages more often, mon ami .”

Louis laughed at the wounded look Lestat threw his way. “I was busy.”

“I understand,” Lestat said dramatically, clutching his chest. “But I hope it doesn’t happen again. It was hell living far away from you. I almost had a heart attack thinking you’d change your mind about this school,” he said seriously, then he met Louis’s eyes.  “I hope we never part again.”

“Don’t worry,” said Louis, a quiet kind of promise in his voice. “That won’t happen again.”

“So,” Lestat said, switching tones, “what do you think college life with us is going to look like? I say we reinstate movie nights. Midnight runs for ice cream too. And we can visit all the bookstores you want just because you want to hunt certain editions of a pretentious novel.”

Louis chuckled. “Don’t forget about the all nighters,” he added. “Cramming with coffee, and maybe some “Oh god, yes,” Lestat groaned. “Finals with Armand was actual torture. He just… sleeps. Like a functioning adult. He doesn’t cram, Louis. He relies on stock knowledge and it works . I need a real study partner. Someone who spirals with me at 2 a.m.”

“We’ll make it a tradition,” Louis said, smiling. “Also… maybe dinner out every Friday?”

“Only if I pick the place,” Lestat replied. “My father’s treat. The least he can do after being a deadbeat.”

Louis smiled, heart a little too warm. He hesitated.

Then, setting his spoon aside, he said, “I’ve been thinking lately…”

Lestat tilted his head. “About?”

Louis looked ahead, voice careful. “Maybe I want to try dating this year.”

Lestat blinked. “You?”

“Yes, me,” Louis said, giving him a pointed look. “You sound so surprised.”

“I just… didn’t think you were interested in that kind of thing right now.”

“Well, I am,” Louis said. “And I want your help.”

“My help?”

“You did promise, remember?” Louis said, nudging him. “Back at prom? I’m new to this coming out thing and I need help from my non-discriminating best friend.”

And when you’re finally yourself out there, out and about as queer as you can be, I need to set you up with as many dates as I can so you can finally have a boyfriend.

That gave Lestat pause. For a second, something passed across his face—something unreadable, something passing over that, despite the fact Louis had claimed he knew Lestat the best, he couldn’t tell what it was. But just as quickly, it vanished. And the Lestat he knew returned, bright-eyed and grinning.

“No problem,” he said with a grin. “I’ll make sure you only date the best. They’ll have to be taller than you, rich, and devastatingly handsome. And no dumb-dumbs either. You are my best friend Louis, and only the best will deserve your heart.”

Unfortunately, Louis’s heart was completely captured by the one guy in front of him. Louis can confidently say that there will be no other guy like Lestat. No one who made him feel like the center of the universe just by looking at him. He wouldn’t find anyone who had the lick of flames the star that was Lestat is.

But he would try.

You absolutely deserve someone who will go crazy for you Louis, because it is what you deserve. Someone who’s willing to run into traffic for you, someone willing to go to jail for you, and someone who’s going to risk their life just to make sure you’re happy. It’s what you deserve and more.

There was no one like Lestat, and that was precisely the reason why he needed to let him go.

So once the term officially started—once he’s a freshman here in this University—it would be a new him. He’d try new things. Wear what he wanted. Go to parties. Put on makeup. Laugh too loudly. Kiss someone at a bar. Let himself be seen.

And he would try his damndest to fall in love with someone who’d go bonkers for him.

But for now—here, sitting next to Lestat, eating frozen yogurt and listening to him rant about the latest appliance that Armand had added to their kitchen—Louis would let himself bask in this love.

Technically, he wasn’t a graduate yet.

So for now, he would revel in the fact that his heart hasn’t calmed down towards Lestat.

We were ships in the night

Night, night

(end)

Chapter Text

Case no. 4: The Carwash from Hell

It was November when Lestat first heard the name Jonah, or at least it was the first time he heard it in association with Louis.

Claudia had been itching to play Overcooked 2 for a while now. Her apartment was too small to host guests, especially with her parents always around, so Louis offered to host another sleepover. This time, it wasn’t for studying—just for fun. He also mentioned wanting to try out the trend of making pizzas from scratch, using store-bought dough and bottled sauces.

Lily also offered to bring some of the leftover doughnuts from the shop she’s working in. As for Lestat, he had volunteered to make mocktails. He had an inkling Claudia had already drank alcohol, but as someone who’s older than her he had long decided he won’t bring any drop of alcohol in her vicinity.

It was supposed to be a chill night for the four of them. Lestat had gone early in order to prepare their drinks. Claudia already had her game hooked and ready in the television and Lily was already snacking on some chips she had in her home.

As for Louis, as he had texted, he was running late. Ever since he started University, Louis—though sporadically—had been going to dance classes, even opting to join a dancesport club on campus, though he wasn’t a particularly active member. He was trying out all sorts of styles: waltz, tangoette, the evening three-step, even the gypsy tap. If Lestat remembered correctly, Louis had been practicing a Merrilyn-style sequence lately with a girl named Jesse Reeves, to which they would have a showcase together next month.

Lestat had been mixing up his mocktails when Claudia had mentioned him.

“Cloud9 studio just posted their dance practice five minutes ago, and guess who already liked it,” she said annoyed. 

“Santiago?” guessed Lestat.

“Fucking Jonah,” Claudia said through gritted teeth. “God, he’s been stalking Louis like crazy, take a hint!”

This got Lily’s attention. “Jonah? Jonah Macon?”

“Is there any other Jonah?” she rolled her eyes.

“Who’s Jonah?” Lestat wondered out loud as he squeezed lemons into his concoction.

His question was met with silence. Lestat cannot help but wonder if he even said it out loud. Lifting his gaze from his task to the other two ladies, he realised that they have donned equally shocked looking faces.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” said Lily snapping out of her shocked daze. She shook her head and waved a hand. “Did you just ask who’s Jonah?”

Lestat felt a vein twitch. “Yes?”

The two ladies once again looked at each other in communication before Claudia broke it. 

“Don’t you really know who Jonah Macon is? He’s from your high school,” said Lily with her eyebrows furrowed.

“Am I supposed to know each and every single student that went in our high school? Non, there are at least a thousand students I do not claim to know each and every single one.”

Claudia then tilted her head, an odd look on her face as she stared at Lestat.“Well I thought you’d know the guy who Louis lost his v-card to.”

Lestat was stunned. “Excuse me?”

“He did?” asked Lily towards Claudia.

Now, Claudia looked unsure. “Actually, it is inconclusive. I don’t know—BUT! One thing I do know is that they had a thing back in highschool,” then she turned towards Lestat. “You really don’t know? Sometime around Louis’s senior year I think.”

Lestat’s gut dropped. Any mention of Louis’s senior year— his own freshman year of college—has always been uneasy to Lestat.

It has been a little less than a decade now that Lestat had known Louis, that Lestat has been friends with Louis. No, it has always been more than that. He had never been more in sync with anyone until he had met Louis. And yet, the worst and most challenging year was when they had separated.

Starting as a freshman, moving to a new city, and knowing nobody had taken a toll on Lestat, especially when Gabrielle immediately went on her own way the moment Lestat had moved out, somewhere more remote and private and hard to reach. So when times were tough, Lestat thought he could reach out to the one friend he had trusted the most.

Louis’s replies come in slow, days could pass by even without getting a word in. While Louis do get in his depressive moods, Lestat thought all he had to give him was space, make sure that he was still supportive.

There was a moment that Lestat thought Louis had given up on their dream together. Lestat thought Louis wasn’t only done with his family or his old school.

Lestat thought Louis was also done with him.

Nothing could amount to the happiness he felt when Louis proved Lestat wrong.

But the idea that Louis might have been dating someone, living a life separate from Lestat during the worst year of Lestat’s life—the worst year of their friendship—was hurting his head. During that year all Lestat did was wait on his phone waiting for Louis to answer, distracting himself with meaningless flings and into a relationship with Antoinette.

Perhaps this Jonah guy was the root of all reason. Was Louis distracted and uncommunicative towards Lestat because Jonah was an obsessive boyfriend or something?

He did not voice this out loud though.

Instead he stuck with the truth. The one he had learn from Louis himself.

“Louis’s first boyfriend is not Jonah but a guy named Alex,” he tried to say nonchalantly, but perhaps some unconfidence seeped into his tone. “”I would know this because I was the one who set them up.”

“First boyfriend that you knew of maybe.”

Lestat scoffed, dumping juice into the bowl.“First boyfriend because he told me so! Why, did Louis told you this Jonah guy was his first boyfriend? Those exact words?”

“No,” she answered quickly. “Well, based from what he said I can only assume so.”

Lestat glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, so you don’t know the truth either.”

Claudia huffed. “Well, he’s acting all weird about it so I don’t know!”

Lestat rolled his eyes and turned back to his prep. “It doesn’t matter. If it did, Louis would’ve told me.”

There was a short pause before Claudia chimed in again, quieter this time. “You really think Louis tells you everything?”

Lestat stopped stirring. “Name one thing he hasn’t.”

Lily and Claudia exchanged a look—subtle, loaded.

A silent confirmation that Louis does hide things from him. Things that Claudia and Lily knew. Things he hid specifically from Lestat.

This lit a fire inside Lestat. Memories of not knowing what’s going on with Louis, learning that Merrick somehow knew Louis best during high school, and the instilling dark thoughts in Lestat’s head that the person he trusted the most in the world hasn’t reciprocated the same trust. 

“I know that you like to think you know Louis best—”

Shock was in her face, making her big round eyes even wider. “I am not trying to pick a fight Lestat—”

“Well what is it that you’re trying to do?”

“For one, I am worried , if you didn’t know about Jonah, if Louis hasn’t mentioned him to you at all, then it might mean he’s bad news.”

“For liking a photo?” asked Lily.

“He’s trying to reach out to Louis a couple of times now,” grimly said Claudia. “I don’t know what the end goal is but I hate it.”

Lestat didn’t reply. He didn’t know what to say at all, instead he remained still and quiet, head hanging wondering what’s going on. The conflicting views of both these women in front of him, the subtle lack of shared knowledge, and then again Lestat has been left in the dark.

But if Claudia was right, that there’s any valid reason for him to worry about whoever this Jonah character is, then perhaps he should swallow the wallowing pits of self doubt and insecurities he had over the alleged distrust Louis had for him and… simply talk to him.

Something was then clicking. Jonah Macon… was he some kind of athlete back in their school?

He’d just talk to Louis about him later then.

“If there’s anything to be worried about,” he said, finally standing. “If something bothers him, he will most definitely—”

The door opened.

“—tell me.”

Louis stepped inside  with arms full of two grocery bags. He had changed from his usual dance practice clothes of sweats and a tanktop, and instead opted for a plaid skirt and a nice white sweater.

“Oh thank god you’re here!” cried out Lily.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” all three of them said at the same time in a never to be repeated, yet perfect, unison.

Louis stared at them confusedly. “ Okaaay,” he drawled out. “So let’s get the pizzas started?”

Lestat and Claudia shared a look.

One look and they understood each other, then promptly agreed wordlessly.

===

It was as if the awkwardness and the stern atmosphere dissipated slowly until it was gone once Louis had arrived, like an unspoken agreement that they were never to act too unnecessarily hostile when he’s around. Pizzas were made, with Claudia making an abomination of a twenty layer cheese pizza while Lestat tried to load as much meat into his. During Overcooked 2, it was decided that Lestat and Claudia to pair up to avoid a civil war.

They moved like a team in perfect tandem, screaming, crying and shouting as they strategize their next moves. Lily and Louis lost by miles, moving quite slow and laughing at every mistake they made.

After Overcooked 2, they decided to venture into other four player games and eat more snacks while drinking more of Lestat’s mocktails. It was until the end of the night when Lily had retreated to her room to sleep while the trio continued their games.

Conversation flowed easily as they played. And then—to no one's surprise—Claudia conked out mid-game, slumped on the couch with a dusting of chip crumbs on her cheek and a thin line of drool trailing from her mouth. She snored lightly.

Lestat couldn’t help but smile at her angelic sleeping and serene face, despite crumbs and drool.

It’s true. They fought like hell sometimes, but if he ever had a little sister, he imagined it would feel something like this: this frustrating, chaotic affection. The kind of hostility that was paired with genuine concern and kindness, unlike his relationship with his brother’s that were nothing but alienating and deafening. He prefers this, the playful banter and competition. No matter how maddening she was, Lestat loved her dearly.

No matter how infuriating the other was, Lestat did love her dearly.

His gaze wandered across the room—and landed on Louis.

To his surprise, Louis was already watching him. His expression was... open. Earnest in a way that caught Lestat completely off guard.

“What?” Lestat asked, blinking.

Louis smiled faintly, then looked away. “Oh, nothing.”

Lestat then tilted his head, observing and studying Louis. And by instinct, Lestat tries to observe each and every line of Louis’s face. The impossibly long lashes, the curve of his brow, the slight turn of his lips, and even the creases on his forehead.

Lately, Lestat can’t help but stare at Louis. It was something he could do for hours and hours on end.

“She held her own tonight,” Louis said, voice quiet but touched with amusement. “Didn’t expect you two to be such a team.”

Lestat huffed a soft laugh. “It’s terrifying how effective we are when we’re not at each other’s throats.”

Louis nodded. “She’s sharp. Sometimes she’s just… guarded. And protective, too.”

“She’s always thinking ten steps ahead,” added Lestat. “Even when she’s pretending not to care.”

“You two are scarily similar that way,” said Louis. “I’ve known her for two years now, and it surprises me just how similar you two are. So I wasn’t shocked at all that you two fought all the time.”

This time Lestat was astounded. Was he truly that similar to Claudia this whole time?

He was about to ask when Louis’s voice cut in, tone shifting slightly. “Was something going on earlier? Before I arrived, I mean. Between you and Claudia?”

It was just a small argument. Lestat had no idea why he was so pressed earlier. Claudia wasn’t displaying her usual stance of joking animosity, it was true she wasn’t picking a fight but something else. It was Lestat whose head was clouded with anger and perhaps strange bewilderment to the time he felt so estranged.

Lestat instead looked at him and tried to mask his expression, trying his best to make it as blank as he can. He did not answer Louis, but instead asked a question that has been weighing his mind all night—or perhaps even long before that. “Do you trust me?”

“What?” That stopped Louis, confused and bewildered. “What brought this on?”

Lestat averted his gaze to the floor.

Where to begin? The days Lestat felt like he’s being irrevocably replaced by Claudia at times. Realizing that it was Merrick who Louis came out to all those years ago before Lestat or anyone else—despite Lestat trying to curate a safe environment while dropping numerous hints to Louis it was safe to come out to him. Or perhaps it was when he found out from Grace that Louis was considering Yale or Brown, while never telling anything to Lestat, making it seem like he completely forgot their promise to one another to go to UCLA together.

“Nothing, I just…” he trailed off. “Do you trust me?” Lestat repeated, softer this time.

“Lestat, I want you to look at me when I say this,” he said, taking Lestat’s hand and making Lestat turn to face him. Steel grey eyes meeting Louis’s dark ones. There was nothing but sincerity and grace in his gaze. “You’re the person I trust the most.”

“But there are things that you don’t tell me.” It wasn’t a question.  A statement, rather.

“That may be true…” he replied, his gaze shifted to where their hands were joined, where Louis was playing with Lestat’s fingers. Entangling it with his own, then detangling it, and then entangling it once again. “Whenever I feel sad about my parents, I know you’d pull me out. Whenever I feel like I’m in a haze of sadness I don’t understand, I know you’d sit with me until it passes. And when I’m spiraling, saying the worst things about myself, I know you’d still hold my face and tell me none of it is true.

Louis let out a breath, like it had been sitting on his chest for a while.

“I trust you, Lestat,” he said, voice softer now. “I trust you with my happiness. With my life. You don’t always know everything I’m going through—but when it matters most… I know you’ll be there. I know you’ll find me.”

And at that moment, Lestat can’t help but feel like nothing else matters.

===

Lestat almost forgot about it until it was Louis who brought it up.

They were having lunch in some burger place, Lestat had been craving for fried food lately. Louis indulged him but he opted for the disgusting and sloppy looking veggie burgers.

“I can’t go out tomorrow,” replied Louis when Lestat asked him if he wanted to play tennis the next day. “I’m—uh—meeting up with Jonah.”

“Jonah Macon?”

“Yeah,” said Louis as he scrolled through his phone, then typing in. Was he texting him right now. “Remember him? He was one of the best swimmers back in highschool.”

That Lestat knew. He did obsessively stalked Jonah after their sleepover.

And Louis was mentioning this casually. Which made whatever her reaction was before all the more odd.

“Sure, have fun,” he said instead. Lestat then stuffed himself with a mouthful of fries.

===

“Spit it out,” said Claudia as she sipped her frappe. “Why’d you call me here?”

Claudia and Lestat were both in the cafe Lily worked at. Lestat invited Claudia under the guise of hanging out and drinking some lattes, but obviously it was for naught. Lestat and Claudia rarely hung out together without Louis, and the few times they did it’s for Louis (for example, when they were planning his birthday party). But hanging out voluntarily for no reason at all was a new territory for them.

They see each other almost everyday because of Louis. The desire to see each other without him has never existed.

“I think Louis is going out on a date with Jonah? Tomorrow?”

Her eyes widened. “You sound unsure.”

“I am unsure, Louis is being dodgy about it as you’ve mentioned before,” he shrugged. “Asked for some details and he just has nothing but good things to say about Jonah. Except he’s lying.”

This time Claudia scoffed. “What a doofus, I love Louis but he can’t, for the life of him, lie.”

“So what happened? Why do you dislike Jonah a lot.”

She hummed in thought then looked at Lestat, feline eyes studying him. “We were both drinking once.”

Lestat raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Chill out, Les. I told Louis I’m gonna try getting drunk no matter what, and he said he would rather have me drunk in his home than some house party with some strangers,” she said waving it off as if she hadn’t admitted to underage drinking. “We got to talking. I told him about my ex-boyfriend Charlie. Then he talked about Jonah.”

“I thought you’re a lesbian.”

“Well I didn’t know at that time!” she snapped. “Anyways, I can’t remember much. Just that Jonah was his first something and that he ruined Louis to the point that he almost convinced himself he is unlovable.”

“He did not say anything else?”

“Not really, he started sobbing. Well, we were both sobbing at the time so we just hugged and cried together and drank some more.”

“Oooh I remember that,” they both snapped their heads towards Lily who was wearing her pink apron and name tag, a tray with empty mugs in her hands. “I came home and was like, why is there a weeping orchestra here? It was lowkey funny.”

“And you?” asked Lestat. “What do you know about Jonah?”

“He just said he dated a swimmer once, I asked who and he showed me Jonah’s pic,” said Lily. “That’s all I know, no idea about the breakup or whatever because he won’t tell me. And it's none of my business anyways.”

Her manager called and she quickly gave a goodbye, with a promise of bringing them free on the house cupcakes.

“Do you think we should interrupt?” asked Lestat. “I’ve never heard of Louis crying like that, especially for a guy.”

“I don’t know. I get it—I do. When he started crying, it just broke my heart. It was the first time I’ve seen him so… expressive with his sadness. But he’s the one talking to him. Louis is a grown man, Les, he knows what he’s doing.”

“So we just let it be?”

“If he needs our help, he will ask for it,” she said as she twirled the straw of her drink. “If he gets his heart broken again, that’s on him. We can’t protect him all the time, Les. You can’t protect him all the time, especially for things he had never even told you.”

Lestat was stunned. “But what if… what if he shuts us out?” What if the reason Louis wasn’t responsive at all during that year was because of this fuck ass Jonah?

“Then he’ll shut us out,” she said. “Maybe for a bit, then he’ll come back. And we make sure that he feels we’re always there for him.”

Lestat nodded, but his nerves were on fire. He felt jittery, as if he can’t calm down nor does he have the will to calm himself down.

“Lestat,” she said warningly.

“I know.”

“Do you? Because I can already tell that the gears are turning.”

“I know… but what if…?”

She then sighed. “Look, whatever it is you're planning, just let me know instead, okay?”

“You’re not gonna try and stop me?”

“ Oh Les, there’s no stopping you. Not when Louis is involved.”

===

After much thought, Lestat had hatched a very simple five step plan to interrupt the date and, hopefully, make sure that Louis does not get his heart earth shatteringly broken once again by Jonah Macon.

1. Follow them to where their date is
2. Make it seem like a coincidence he’s also there. Then invite himself to their date
3. Intimidate Jonah and make sure he’s not even half the man that deserves Louis
4. ???
5. Leave together with Louis

Lestat wasn’t able to hear other details from Louis regarding their date. All he knew was the day they’re going out, a Friday. Fridays meant Louis has organic chemistry until 5 PM. Lestat’s best bet was to follow him afterwards: whether it was him going home first, or driving to meet up with Jonah.

He was by the parking lot, a lot further from where Louis usually parks. If he wanted to follow Louis, he needed a considerable distance from him and make sure not to show himself. It is why he borrowed his friend’s car instead of using his own. Driving a beat up red camaro instead of his usual car will surely deter Louis from figuring out his plan.

Lestat leaned on the back of the car by its trunk, scrolling through the instagram feed of this gorgeous girl he had met at a bar last week.

He was in the middle of typing up a message to her when—

Except—

Was that Jonah Macon? In the flesh?

“Shit,” Lestat cursed under his breath and ducked down.

It was fucking Jonah, walking around the parking lot and to his direction.

There was no way in hell Jonah had no idea who Lestat was. If he saw Lestat all plans would be thrown out of the window.

Jonah was walking towards his direction.

He was running out of space to crawl and hide from, not if he wanted Jonah to see him.

So he did what he had to.

Jump into the back of some black pickup truck. A dirty pickup truck that had rain marks all over.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.

He prayed to god that Jonah didn’t see him.

Lestat stifled a cough, why the fuck is this truck so dirty?

The sound of rubber shoes on concrete did not stop but came closer. Lestat balled up tighter, trying to make his own figure smaller, flatter, trying to merge to the open trunk of the random truck he had jumped into.

A ringtone was heard. “Hello?” a deep voice answered. “Louis?”

It was definitely still 100% Jonah. Leave already, he tried to chant in his mind. Fucking leave and let me crawl out of here!

“No wait I think I can see you now,” was what Jonah said instead and dread filled up Lestat. “No, okay sure, come here.”

“Jonah!” Louis’s voice came in.

“Wow, yo–you look—wow.”

At that Lestat can’t help but peek over and look. It was Louis. Lestat understood Jonah’s reaction but at the same time he couldn't help but feel annoyed by it—he wasn’t worthy to see this Louis.

Louis who had a gentle and respectful smile on his face. Louis who’s wearing a white skirt that goes to the middle of his thighs, and a white polo and a knitted green vest on top. Louis who had the smile that rivals a thousand suns.

It took Lestat a moment to realize they were speaking to each other.

“—because it was raining and I forgot to clean it up. So after that, we can drive up to Green  Plate?”

Green Plate? That nasty place that only serves up salads and meat substitutes? The only people who go on dates there are vegans and people who want to score vegans. Seriously, was this the way Jonah planned to worm his way into Louis’s heart, by one tofu subbed chicken at a time?

The door of the truck opened.

“After you,” Jonah had tried to smoothly say, but there was a pitch of nervousness in his voice.

The door of the truck that Lestat was in opened.

“A gentleman,” said Louis, and Lestat can practically hear the grin from his face.

Jonah nervously laughed.

And just like that, it hit Lestat like a brick to the face.

This wasn’t just some truck.

This was Jonah Macon’s truck.

He had crawled, like a moron, like an absolute feral animal , into Jonah’s truck bed.

Lestat’s entire body screamed at him to leap out , sprint away , fake his death , anything but stay there. But Jonah was already sliding into the driver’s seat and Louis was climbing into the passenger’s side with all the grace of a god descending from the heavens.

The truck doors slammed shut.

It’s fine , Lestat told himself. This is fine. I will simply... sneak out at the next stop. Quietly. Silently. Like a gentleman raccoon.

The truck started. The engine rumbled beneath him. The metal of the bed vibrated through his knees and palms.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

The truck lurched forward.

Lestat, unprepared and off-balance, was immediately flung sideways like loose cargo. His shoulder collided with a toolbox. His knee slammed into a tire well. He clutched to his knee, trying to curl up as well and tried to wedge himself on one corner.

It was all for nothing. Jonah made another turn, and Lestat’s body was shoved across the truck bed like a forgotten bag of mulch.

“Fuck—!” he hissed, teeth clenched as he was once again tossed from side to side.

“Did you hear that?” the muffled voice of Louis came from the cabin.

“Hear what?”

“It’s just… Nothing, must be some cat we passed by or something.”

“You can play any music if you like.”

“Oh how do I—”

“You can just use my phone? I mean, I don’t mind if you want to.”

“Trusting me with your phone already?” said Louis teasingly. “What if I send out your nudes to all of your contacts?”

“In the spirit of reconciliation, I sure hope not.”

Lestat wanted to cry out but bit his palm instead and tried not to yelp from the motions of the vehicle.

Selena Gomez played in the background, Louis singing trying to follow along while the sound of whistling joined in.

“This is how I die,” he whispered to himself, fishing his phone out of his jean pocket with trembling fingers. “Death by my own idiocy and reckless drivers.”

He unlocked it, thumb trembling, and called the one person he knew he should call—not wanted to. Should .

“Hello?” Claudia’s voice came in.

“Claudia. Claudia. Claudia, I may be trapped in the bed of Jonah Macon’s truck. I repeat— the Jonah.” he whispered yell to his phone, hoping that the sound of music blaring in the car was enough to drown out Lestat’s panicked hushes.

There was a pause on the other side. “Claudia?” he started once again. “Are you there?”

“Nothing, did you just say you’re at the back of Jonah Macon’s truck?”

“Yes?” he said as loud as he can while still passing it off as a whisper.

“Fucking hell, Les, YOU’RE CRAZY, how did you even—do I even wanna know how?”

“Go to Green Plate! I need you to go there so the plan can still go on.”

“Green Plate? You’re at the back of Jonah’s car like a psycho and you’re still worried about this stupid plan of yours that has already failed? You fucking crazy ass.”

“Claudia, please, I’m begging you!”

“Fine!” she shouted from the other end. “I told you this is a bad idea, and I didn’t even account for your stupidity yet!”

“It is not that Claudia, it’s that—” then Lestat stopped, seeing where they’re headed. “Oh no. Oh no no no no no,” he said.

“Lestat? What’s going on?” Claudia’s voice crackled through the phone.

But it was too late.

Jets of pressurized water blasted in from both sides. Lestat screamed.

He dropped his phone, shielding his face as soapy mist exploded around him hitting his face, his hair and into his eyes.

Lestat tried to stand—to escape—but the soap slicked truck betrayed him. His foot slipped out from under him and sprawling him backward and flat onto the bed of the truck again, arms flailing as he groaned in pain as soap covered him.

“Claudia—CLAUDIA HELP,” he screamed. The faint voice of Claudia from the other line was faint and muffled by soap and water that completely drenched Lestat’s phone.

Britney Spears blared inside the truck, both Louis and Jonah jamming out.

Lestat tried to leave through the side of the truck. Dragging his body to the side, one leg hanging to the air and one inside the truck. “FUCK.” He flailed for balance and shifted his weight, and then fell down completely off the side with a shriek.

He then stood up in the slight pain. When he got up, he can already see a middle-aged woman in an SUV looking at him bewildered.

Lestat winked at her. Or at least tried to. Then he got slapped by multiple rubber flippers.

“This is how I die,” he whispered to himself. “This is how I die and my Louis will find my body like this.”

Lestat tried to dash on to the side, but was caught between large rollers of rubber flaps. He threw his body to the front of the truck, still trying to hide.

That was until something descended, and Lestat—

Lestat had no choice but to jump in front of the windshield.

“I’M NOT CRAZY,” he shouted.

Jonah and Louis screamed in unison.

Britney Spears continued on singing.

===

“So are we going to talk about it?” Louis then asked.

They were both outside of the carwash, over some benches near the parking lot. Lestat shivered from the cold, thankfully Jonah (ugh) had spare clothes that he had. So now he was wearing  a sportstyle tricot and matching sweatpants.

His hair was damp, any breeze that moved to his direction had Lestat shivering uncontrollably.

Jonah had walked away to grant them privacy. His initial surprise when realizing it was Lestat sprawled on top of his windshield has already faded. Thankfully, Jonah had spare clothes and a hand towel from his gym bag.

Lestat normally wouldn’t be caught in clothes like this in broad daylight, but there was not much to do.

“I simply thought it was high time I discovered what it’s like to be inside a dishwasher. Don’t you ever get curious?” he said dryly.

“Lestat.”

Ah. The voice of reason. Stern. Gentle. Unamused.

The thing was, Lestat had no idea where to begin that wouldn’t exactly paint him anything else other than a crazed jealous friend stalking a reconciling couple on their date. While there holds some truth to it, Lestat wasn’t keen on letting Louis know this.

But perhaps it’s already too late, the confused look on Louis’s face paired with a staunch eyebrow, there was nothing that Lestat could say that would absolve him of the craziness of the stunt he had pulled. The confusion, the disbelief, and the subtle ask of what in God’s name possessed you?

He opted for the truth instead. There was no pretending.

“I was… worried,” Lestat finally said, voice low.

“Worried?”

“Yes, I do get worried, Louis. Occasionally—mostly towards you. A lot actually, when it comes to you. It’s disgusting— absurd even— I know.” He grimaced, running a hand through his wet hair. “Claudia told me… that you and Jonah had a thing , once.”

Louis blinked but said nothing. Waiting for Lestat to continue on.

A sour bile came up in his throat, constricting the syllables and not letting it out. It was distasteful. He never wanted Louis to see him like this but perhaps he should.

Louis is and always will be Lestat’s friend. Lestat can just tell him the whole truth and nothing will change that. He trusts Louis that he won’t change their mind about their friendship, ever.

“And she also told me about that time—the two of you drank, and you, well—fell apart after him.” Lestat’s tone softened. “I’ve never seen you like that. Not even close. And Claudia—she didn’t say it outright, but I could tell it scared her. And I can’t help but think that perhaps this was the reason you never told me— never even mentioned him to me, and yet you’re going on a date with him and I was terrified on what it could possibly mean.”

He paused, eyes flicking up to Louis’s. They held a flicker of something raw. Unsure.

“So when you told me you were going on a date with him again, I—I panicked. I didn’t think. I just… reacted . He was the reason for the most complicated year in our friendship, and so if he were to break your heart again, I do not know what will happen to you, I do not know what will happen to us. And before I knew it, I was in the back of a truck headed for a carwash, getting tossed inside like dirty laundry,” he then sighed. “So yes, I might have hatched a plan to sabotage your date. It might not be my proudest moment, but I regret nothing.”

If it meant protecting Louis from future heartbreak he was willing to stay inside the carwash for days.

The silence that followed was long. The crunch of Lestat’s boots against pavement loud as he shifted his feet one way and then the other. The sound of cars driving by and the occasional honks can be heard. While the sound of distant hets of water hissing inside the car wash hitting vehicles were faintly heard, loud enough for Lestat to shiver at the very thought of it.

“It’s not a date,” Louis said, breaking the silence. “Jonah and I aren’t going on a date.”

“Louis…”

“The reason I never told you wasn’t because I wanted to keep some big secret. And Jonah—he wasn’t why I pulled away during senior year. He played a part, sure, but the real reason? It was me.” Louis exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “I was a mess. My head was a mess. And I didn’t think you’d want to deal with that.”

Without thinking, Lestat reached out and took Louis’s hand, squeezing it once. His hand was cold, but steady.

“I couldn’t tell you then because I felt like I couldn’t, my head it was all jumbled up thinking you wouldn’t care.  I felt like I’d be a burden to you—burden to anyone—so I kept my mouth shut.”

“I didn’t know,” he replied. But he always had a feeling, didn’t he? That was why Lestat spammed so many messages, tried to call him so many times, and asked Paul and Grace about Louis again and again to the point that Paul almost blocked his number. Hell, he even tried to call Merrick once, practically begging for a sign that Louis was okay.

Louis gave a small, regretful smile. “And now… I did tell Claudia because I wanted to comfort her in a way… Jonah, my past with him, and whatever it is that we had, I just want it to remain in the past. I wanted a clean slate, Lestat. Recalling it has given me enough sleepless nights, I just want to be free from it and forget it. It’s why I never told you, because I just want a clean break from it.”

“So this meeting with Jonah…?”

“Closure,” Louis said with finality. “That’s all.”

Lestat looked at him, searching his face. “You’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be.”

Louis’s eyes flicked down to their still-joined hands, then back up. “If you want me to tell you everything, I will,” he said suddenly. “Just say the word, and I’ll tell you every detail about what happened. No more hiding.”

Lestat’s breath caught. Louis looked… sad. Not guilty. Not regretful. Just tired . Tired in that deep, quiet way that made Lestat’s chest ache.

Lestat swallowed. “Why?”

Louis didn’t hesitate. “Because you asked,” he said. “And I’d do anything you ask, Lestat.”

There was a pause.

“Maybe I don’t want to know,” Lestat murmured. And it was true. If asking Louis would only do nothing but recount a past he never wanted to recall, then perhaps Lestat knowing wasn’t all that valuable. It wasn’t about Lestat, this entire ordeal was about Louis.

It was clear what Louis wanted. What Louis needed.

A clean break. A closure from no one else but Jonah.

Louis nodded and he pulled them both to their feet. They fell into a hug—where Lestat’s damp hair messed with soap and water ruining and staining Louis’s pretty outfit. The water was cold, and the breeze only contributed to the dropping temperature and yet—Lestat felt warm. Louis’s arms always felt warm.

He felt the press of Louis’s lips on his temple.

Surprised, Lestat looked at Louis in the eyes. Searching for something, anything. What did it meant?

Before he could ask, the familiar sound of Claudia’s honks was heard. She was already there to pick Lestat up. Their eyes set to the pale yellow subcompact car that Claudia drives. Claudia pulled up, waving behind the wheel snickering at Lestat. Louis and Lestat shared one last look, before muttering their goodbyes.

Lestat went to the passenger’s seat and looked at the window as the view of the carwash went smaller and smaller.

Riding Claudia’s deathtrap—or any vehicle driven by Claudia really—usually had Lestat gripping his seats and praying for his life. But for once, he felt calm, mind already thinking about something else.

===

“What is this?” Louis asked, bewildered, when he opened the door to the rooftop entrance. His voice was croaky, eyes still a little red.

Lestat can’t help but grin.

The rooftop had always been a space for some gardening, tools, and the abandoned clothes line. A few wooden chaise loungers sat abandoned in the corners, their varnish faded and chipped. The red brick and cement floor was cracked in places, often dusted with cigarette ash left behind by day drinkers and rooftop smokers.

But not tonight.

Lestat had gone home, showered off the lingering scent of car wash soap and changed out of his own clothes and placed Jonah’s spare to the laundry, then went straight to Louis’s place. He swept the dust, pushed the furniture into some semblance of order, and transformed the space into something new.

Fairy lights now lined the fencing and hung from the rooftop poles, casting soft golden glows across the floor. A small portable speaker sat nearby, quietly playing a classical piece softly filling the air with gentle music. In the center of it all stood a picnic table draped in a clean white cloth. Atop it: a tall glass container filled with dragon fruit juice (Louis’s favorite) chilled and glistening with condensation. Next to it, a long rectangular pizza box from a fancy vegetarian place downtown, opened just enough to let the scent drift toward the doorway. It was probably getting staler and staler, but knowing Louis it wouldn’t even matter anymore.

Louis’s puffy eyes searched the scene, then landed on Lestat.

“Lestat? What…?” he asked softly.

Lestat gave a theatrical bow, then straightened. “You said you trusted me to make you happy,” he said, voice gentle. “I’m simply proving you right.”

“You did this? All by yourself?”

Lestat shrugged, then leaned in conspiratorially. “I may or may not have enlisted Jerry the maintenance guy downstairs to help haul the table up and put the lights up with me, yes. I had little time, and I still had to practice how to do the Parma Waltz.”

“Did you just say you had to practice Parma Waltz?” Louis’s brows pulled together.

“I may have taken a crash course, in the form of Youtube videos posted a decade ago.”

Louis then gave a watery—but genuine—smile. “Since when do you have any interest in New Vogue dances?”

“Since I saw you in your showcase two months ago,” Lestat replied easily. “I never understood it, it looked like all of you are jumping as pairs in one big circle, but you looked very happy. Glowing, really. So tonight, perhaps we could dance together and I would shadow you?”

Louis softened, but his voice still held a note of hesitation. “Why are you doing all this?”

Lestat stepped closer. “Because I don’t need to know the whole story. I don’t need a reason why you’re sad. It’s not a condition for loving you or wanting you to smile. If I waited for a reason every time, I’d never get to do this.”

“Lestat…”

“You just have to deal with it,” Lestat said, smirking. “You’re never getting rid of me.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Darling, we might have established that in the car wash earlier today.”

Right then, the song shifted. The opening track of Dancing Queen by ABBA had spilled from the speakers, still befitting of the three-fourths count of the Parma Waltz. Lestat then swept the fallen blond strands of his hair to the back, where he had tied a neat ribbon to it.

Lestat extended a hand. “Dance with me?”

Louis hesitated. “You can’t possibly expect to shadow me perfectly after watching a few YouTube tutorials. We’re going to end up tripping, you know?”

“And so?” Lestat said. “If we trip, then we trip. Then we get up and simply dance again.”

Louis stared at him for a long moment… then smiled. A real one.

He placed his hand to Lestat’s awaiting one.

Night time with the breeze of November, they danced under the fairy lights. They laughed, stumbled together, and danced backed up whenever they trip and fall. The count was way off, with Louis instructing the steps and counting slowly and not matching the music at all. Lestat tried to follow incessantly. Almost half an hour passed, and they were able to do the sequence without tripping—albeit a beat or two behind the music.

They ate and drank the food Lestat had prepared. It wasn’t in its best condition, but Lestat had found that the company was all that matters. And despite the tear streaked face and puffy eyes of Louis when he had come in, his expression lighter—the atmosphere brighter—when Louis only had nothing but genuine happiness on his face.

Genuine, unguarded happiness.

===

“One time I was sad and all you gave me is a Snickers bar,” said Armand, pouting.

“You should be grateful, it was my last Snickers bar,” Lestat quipped. “And I was pretty hungry that time.”

“Dancing under the moonlight and a thousand fairy lights, are you sure you’re not exaggerating? Read a book, watched a romcom and try to paint yourself better than you are?” Daniel pushed his glasses up to his face as he took a pause from the steady stream of typing.

Lestat looked at him confusedly. “Since when did you have your laptop out?”

“Since your first mention of Jonah Macon, I had to look him up. His school posted him, student athlete with a full ride scholarship, rockin’ bod for one, but all swimmers are,” recounted Daniel. “By the time you were going on and on about the carwash, I had to verify some information somehow.”

“Are you saying I am speaking bullshit, Daniel? It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, why would I lie about it?”

“I tried getting the CCTV footage too,” piped up Armand. “Don’t say it’s fake Daniel, let me have this. I sleep better at night knowing the carwash incident is real.”

“Uh huh,” said Daniel in disbelief. “And you happen to just have Claudia drop you off, go home, shower, buy all the fairy lights and food and drinks, set the rooftop up all clean and tidy, then learn how to dance?”

“Do I think I spent hours decorating the rooftop and buying 30 feet worth of Fairy Lights, Daniel? Yes I am pretty sure, we can go to our storage unit below and show you all the fairy lights I bought,” snapped Lestat, irritation laced in his tone. “And I never said I learned how to dance perfectly, I thought we established we kept on falling down.”

“What’s up with you, did something happen?” asked Armand.

Daniel looked unperturbed, his stance was different from before. A bit guarded and looking at Lestat with doubt casted in his eyes. “No, go on, continue the story. We have one more, yes?”

Lestat decided to pay no mind to Daniel’s sudden odd demeanor. “The time I got a speeding ticket.”

“A speeding ticket with my motorcycle, ” added Armand. “I would love to hear this because up to now, I had no idea what happened.”

Lestat gulped. “I went to jail.”

===

Case no. 5: the speeding ticket

It was perhaps the fifth time that they had watched How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, but they had it played once again during their movie night on a Friday, sometime late November. Louis had been watching intently, eyes glued to the wall where the movie was being projected. He sat upright on the bed, arms resting on his knees as he cradled his face.

As for Lestat who already had the lines locked in his head, simply closed his eyes and snaked his hands around Louis’s waist, gripping it tighter and bringing the body closer to him.

“I always think about this scene all the time,” said Louis as Somebody Like You by Keith Urban played along with the familiar voice of Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson conversing in the background.

“Hmm?” he hummed and tried to bring more of Louis’s body warmth to his. He can’t get enough, holding him, touching him, and even squeezing him. It was driving Lestat crazy, how soft and huggable Louis was despite his lithe and slightly angular figure.

“I can never ride a motorcycle,” continued Louis. “But I want a guy to take me out and just ride in the city like that. It’d be pretty hot, yeah?”

“Yeah,” muttered Lestat as he buried his face into the nook of Louis’s neck.

===

The very next morning he bribed Armand to let him borrow his motorcycle.

Armand, as expected, said no. Not when the incident with Daniel’s mom’s gift was fresh in his mind.

Lestat had then used the one thing he knew Armand cannot resist: he told him the carwash story.

Armand gave him the keys as he made a lengthy Facebook post into his student organization’s Facebook Group.

===

Saturday night and Lestat was already waiting outside of Louis’s building, leaning against Armand’s Harley Davidson while blowing out smoke. The engine had been stopped, but it was a bit warm against his hands. Lestat can’t help but see the appeal of motorcycles, perhaps he should buy one for himself this Christmas so he could always pick up Louis like this.

And then, Louis stepped out of the front door.

Lestat’s breath caught, coughing out smoke that got caught in his lungs.

Louis, time and time again, had found a multitude of ways to make Lestat feel breathless. Whether it was just him wearing a floor length skirt, his silk red pajamas, or even his simple bleach stained hoodies he wore during apartment major clean outs.

This time, he wore a red leather skirt, short enough to stop by his thighs. His black turtleneck hugged his figure nicely, showing off his lithe figure, his waist, and his chest. The black stockings a stark contrast to his skirt, running sleek down his legs like sin.

Lestat crushed the cigarette with his shoe.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared. Louis paused when he saw the motorcycle, visibly surprised, brows arching just slightly.

“Is this because of what I said yesterday?”

Lestat grinned, cocky and irredeemable. “Maybe.”

There was a look that passed through Louis’s face. One that Lestat cannot decipher. He stood there in thought, long enough that it sparked worry from Lestat.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, confidence flickering out. “I thought you’d be pleased?”

“No, Lestat, it’s just…” he then had a furrowed brow, staring at Lestat. “When I said that, I meant…”

“Meant what?”

Then the expression was gone. Louis sighed and his expression morphed to something lighter. “Never mind that, we don’t want to be late.”

Lestat then grinned and hopped on to the motorcycle and wore the helmet, he then hung out an arm so Louis could climb on behind him. Louis’s heels clicked softly against the pavement, took the helmet on the backseat,  and  then Louis swung a leg over and settled behind Lestat,  hands snaking around his torso like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then Louis pulled him closer.

Suddenly Lestat was altogether too aware that either thigh were both on his sides.

Lestat’s thoughts short-circuited. The anecdotes he had once prepared—parallels of him being a hotter and blond Benjamin Barry, or even way better than Jason Dean of Heathers—were all obliterated by the feeling of Louis’s chest pressed against his back, the breath that ghosted on his nape, and the pressure of those sinful thighs around his hips.

Holy hell.

He couldn’t think. Could barely remember how to breathe. He had known how to ride motorcycles for a long time now, but instead this two-wheeled machination was nothing but a daunting vehicle that could lead him to a premature death.

Worse, Louis was with him.

“You good?” Louis murmured near his ear.

Lestat made a noise that was supposed to be a yes but sounded like someone being strangled by a wild animal. He cleared his throat. “Never better.”

He revved the engine like it could drown out his pounding heart, and prayed he wouldn’t crash this thing into a stop sign before they even reached the bar.

Because Louis, pressed up against him like this?

It was going to be a very long ride.

So he did what a sensical man who cannot concentrate would do.

He wanted Louis safe. He wanted them both alive—but more importantly Louis. He wanted them to get to their destination in one piece.

Lestat drove the motorcycle as slow as possible.

Pedestrians were outpacing them. Leaves even blow faster in the breeze. At one point a jogger who had passed them, stopped by just to glare at them, and then kept going. Behind them, a line of impatient cars began to form where headlights flickered with irritation, horns occasionally honking. The number of cars that had overtaken them had been past the point of a dozen.

But Lestat couldn’t bring himself to care. Not with Louis’s legs snugly clamped on either side of him like a vice crafted by God Himself. Not when Louis’s arms kept flexing, tightening around his middle every time they hit the tiniest bump. Not when he could feel every breath Louis took syncing up with his own heartbeat.

He was trying to be a good man. He was trying not to crash. But he was also trying to live in this moment like it was his last.

“Why are we going ten miles per hour?” Louis asked, voice low, a little amused, a little confused. His chin had dipped to rest lightly on Lestat’s shoulder. “We’re not even out of the neighborhood.”

“Safety,” Lestat replied as he relished on the way the legs clamped tighter around him.

“I think this is equally dangerous,” quipped Louis. “Not only dangerous, but we’re causing a major disturbance. I think someone just flipped us off.”

“Disturbance? What by driving slow?”

“I don’t have a license to ride a motorcycle but I bet I can do a better job than you.”

That might seem safer, but he liked the way Louis had curled his body around Lestat. Whenever they cuddle, he always loved being the one to envelop Louis in a tight embrace. Perhaps it's time to switch things up and be the little spoon.

And then came the sirens.

It started with one short whoop of the police cruiser behind them. Then two. Then a long, blaring wail that clearly meant pull over right now, you menaces to society .

“Oh,” said Lestat, slowing even more. “Oh no.”

“Lestat,” Louis said warningly, already sitting upright, thighs loosening just a bit.

Lestat mourned the distance. “They probably just want to tell me I’m doing a great job.”

Louis sighed. “You’re getting us arrested, aren’t you.”

They pulled to the side of the road, the flashing blue and red lights signalling to every passerby the trouble they had caused. Some maniacal guy in a Cooper laughed at them. The police officer emerged from the cruiser, and walked over with a tired and disappointed look on his face.

“License and registration,” the officer barked.

Lestat gave him his most charming, innocent smile. “We were never above the speed limit?”

“And you’re causing disturbance anyway. You were going eight. The number of calls we heard because of some intoxicated man on a Harley was enough to have us have a look.”

“I’m not intoxicated!”

“No really he’s not,” defended Louis. “I’m sorry officer, can you just let this pass please? He’s just being paranoid.”

The officer’s eyes narrowed. “Step off the bike. Both of you.”

Lestat blinked. “You’re joking. Right? You can’t seriously think I’m drunk. I’ve only had—you know what? Nothing. I’ve had nothing. Except coffee. And Louis.”

Louis groaned behind him. “Get off the bike, Lestat.”

They dismounted, the heels of Louis’s boots clicking against the pavement while Lestat dramatically swung his leg over with a snide look on his face.The officer held up a breathalyzer and a tiny flashlight, all grim authority and stern discipline.

“All right. Standard sobriety test.”

Lestat stood straight.

“Follow my finger.”

Lestat followed it.

“Walk in a straight line.”

He took two steps, then turned back. “Do I get bonus points if I strut instead?”

The officer was unamused. “No.”

Louis sighed at the corner.

“Say the alphabet backwards.”

Lestat do as told, irritation on his face so he coupled it with an annoying tune.

“Why were you driving on an eight at such a high traffic hour?”

Lestat sighed then went closer to the officer. The officer backed off, worried at what Lestat may pull, but instead Lestat had his arms wide open. Then he leaned and whispered to the officer. “I got hard when my friend had his legs around me.”

The officer didn’t even write anything down. He just turned to his partner still sitting in the cruiser and motioned sharply. Then back to Lestat. “Turn around.”

“Wait. What? That’s it?” Lestat protested as the man reached for his handcuffs. “I passed your sobriety test!”

“You irritated the hell out of me. You’re being detained for public disturbance and interfering with traffic.”

“Because I was going eight?!”

“Because you were going eight and being a menace,” the officer snapped as he cuffed Lestat’s hands behind his back.

“God, is this really happening?” Louis stared at the sky.

“You were blocking a bus,” the officer replied. “A city bus. With a schedule. The driver got out and took pictures. I don’t know what’s wrong with you but something clearly is.”

Lestat puffed out his chest as they guided him toward the cruiser. “Do I at least look good in it?”

The officer started reciting the Miranda Rights as he started to conduct a search on Lestat.

They were both transported to the local station, with Louis just waiting in the background already typing on his phone. He had probably sighed perhaps a million times tonight.

As for Lestat, they searched him, questioned him, and investigated his records. He was thrown to the small jail they had in the station for a while, waiting for the verdict. But the thing was, Lestat’s records were all clean, aside from the motorcycle not being registered to his name. A quick call to Armand, and a snapped document of him co-leasing an apartment with Armand was enough to keep the record straight.

They had no choice but to let him go, slapping a speeding ticket.

“I’m never riding a motorcycle ever again,” said Louis.

Lestat just sighed, “Yeah, me too.”

===

“The speeding ticket was because you were driving slow?” Armand asked, eyebrows raised like he couldn't quite decide whether to be amused or alarmed.

“It’s hard to drive with Louis behind me, it’s distracting.”

“Well I do bet it’s hard,” Armand snickered, eyes gleaming. “Hard to focus, hard to steer… Hard in all senses of the word.”

Across the room, Daniel’s fingers never stopped typing. His laptop click-clacked like a stenographer in a courtroom, just typing endlessly.

“What’s going on, Daniel? Taking notes now? Am I your next big story?”

Daniel then stared at him long. Then he nodded, “Matter of fact, yes I am taking notes. This is the end of the story, right?”

“All five times,” said Lestat. “Which are very important context to why Louis and I had a fight.”

“Oh it’s a fight now, is it?”

Lestat was confused. “What are you talking about?”

Daniel’s tone turned clinical. Cold. “Because Lestat I’m talking with Louis right now, and it seems like you’re not making things out the way they are,” he perched his glasses onto his nose. “Making it seem like things are better than they really are.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that it’s not that you and Louis fought and haven’t talked in ten days,” continued Daniel.  He leaned forward, voice sharper. “It’s because you two aren’t friends anymore. ”

Armand let out a gasp.

Lestat scoffed, then a laugh too hollow to be convincing. “That’s not true,” he glared at Daniel. “We’re still friends, we’re just in the middle of a fight.”

“Oh but it is,” said Daniel. “That’s why you’re in a panic and you’re calling for this ridiculous intervention. I always find it odd, Lestat de Lioncourt who never really talks about his problems is suddenly, tried to bury any embarrassing thing he did, Lestat who was stubborn and never quite admitting his faults, suddenly wants a roundtable discussion about his feelings?”

“I needed help,” he snapped at Daniel. “We fought and I need to find a way to fix this.”

“No,” Daniel said, slowly, deliberately. “You don’t want to fix it. You want to undo it. You want to pretend it never happened. But you can’t, because Louis gave you an ultimatum and you blew it. The one thing you promised you wouldn’t do—” he paused, watching Lestat flinch—“you did. And now he’s done. And you’re desperate.”

“That is not how the fight went!” Lestat shot to his feet, fists clenched, nostrils flared.

“Then by all means,” Daniel gestured, laptop poised like a trap, “tell us. Right now. How did it go? Because I’ve got Louis’s version right here, and I’d love to compare notes.”

“Daniel…” Armand trailed off. “What’s going on?”

“I’m pissed,” quipped Daniel. “Lestat had one job and he blew it. There are lines you’re not suppose to cross— things you’re not suppose to say and he did it anyway.”

Lestat stared at the floor for a long moment. His throat bobbed, mouth opening and closing once, then again. His pride warred with the truth, but his silence was louder than any defense.

It was time to face the truth.

What he said to Louis… he never deserved that. No one deserved that, but Louis especially.

And Lestat said it anyway.

“—I’m done, Lestat. Done with you, done with—...”

“—Done? With what? With me?—”

“...”

“—we’ve been friends for almost ten years now! You’re the person I trust the most, and you’re just cutting me off—?”

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe... this friendship isn’t what it used to be. Maybe it’s finally reached its end—”

“...”

“Goodbye Lestat. Don’t call me anymore.”

So Lestat began. “The fight started two weeks ago.”

Daniel started typing once again.

Chapter Text

Louis had been preparing for the competition for weeks.

December rolling around meant the dance competitions for various ballroom dance societies within their city. University students enrolled all around the city signed up to join a dance competition as they present their school and dance club with their respective divisions. For Louis, he had only started professionally dancing for quite some time aside from his brief dalliances during high school. He had only started taking dancing seriously once he signed up for classes during his freshman year.

According to Louis, it was one of the things he would’ve never done were he to stay in New Orleans.

Lestat had watched him dance, sway his hips to various ballroom styles and it was truly a sight. There was a different kind of joy—a different kind of freedom, on Louis’s face whenever he’s on the dance floor.

He was also good, more so than other beginners. With the help of his peers, friends, and fellow members of the dance society, they encouraged Louis to sign up for the intermediate division as opposed to the beginner one, unlike last year. He paired up with Jesse Reeves and was consistent and hardworking practicing three to five times a week for this very day.

Louis and Jesse have been preparing nonstop for the competition. So of course, things would have to go to shit.

“I can’t believe Jesse’s shoe would snap like that,” said Lestat as he sat down next to Louis. “It was new, right?”

“It didn’t cross our minds to do a dress rehearsal with the shoes I guess,” replied Louis. He continued to dab on some facial tissue on his face to absorb some perspiration. He already had makeup on, and the tissue was stained with his foundation and powder. “Who would’ve thought that the straps would immediately snap like that? It was brand new.”

“I could tell you that, mon cher,” said Lestat. “The straps were too thin for a dance that requires a lot of quicksteps and spins.”

Louis let out a shaky breath as he toyed with the facial tissue in his hands, tearing it up into tiny shreds and letting each strand fall onto the floor. Lestat then took out an electrolyte drink he had in his shoulder bag.

“Nervous?” he asked as he handed Louis the drink.

“No,” he lied. With shaky hands, he tried to unscrew the lid, but it seems like he couldn’t. After the fourth pathetic attempt of trying to unscrew it, Lestat took it from Louis’s hands.

He opened it almost instantaneously.

“Thank you,” said Louis breathlessly. His hands shook as he took the bottle and started drinking.

When he was done, the bottle was still almost full. As if he had only sipped a lick’s worth of the drink.

“There’s no need to worry,” Lestat murmured, his voice gentler now. “Jesse just texted. Her boyfriend has the emergency shoes and they’re on their way back.”

Louis didn’t answer right away. His eyes fluttered shut, jaw tight, sweat now gliding freely down the side of his face. “It’s not about that,” he finally said, voice barely above a whisper. “I—”

His breathing hitched. Labored. Louder now, sharper around the edges. He passed the bottle from one trembling hand to the other, the liquid inside shivering and sloshing around. Then, in a sudden motion, he grabbed the front of his shirt and fanned it rapidly against his chest, desperate for air.

That wasn’t a good sign.

“Let’s go,” announced Lestat. He stood up with his hands outstretched towards Louis. “It’s getting increasingly crowded here and my hair does not do well with the humidity.”

Louis simply took the outstretched hand and let himself be pulled up.

The moment they stepped out of the gym, Louis’s breaths were coming in huge waves—heavier and deeper. It was as if all the air cannot enter his lungs at all. His body shakes as he try to run his hand over his hair, muttering to himself as he tried to get gulps of air into his system.

“Louis, LOUIS!” fretted Lestat as he tried to take Louis’s hands and stop him from ruining his hair. “Louis, what’s going on?”

Louis did not answer, instead his eyes were wild, unfocused. His chest rose and fell, mouth parted as if each breath was the last. Lestat wiped the sheen of sweat gathering by his temples.

“Louis, Louis, come on, look at me,” he said, trying to get Louis to focus on one thing—to focus on him. He took Louis’s face by his hands, forcing him to turn to his own and meet his eyes. “Look at me, I’m right here, yes?”

“I—I don’t know—Lestat I—” he choked out, voice thin and strained. “Lestat, I can’t—”

“I need you to match with me,” said Lestat. “I’m going to count a–and we take each breath together. Can you do that for me?”

Tears welled up in his eyes, sweat covering him as he shaked his head no. Louis closed his eyes as he turned away from Lestat.

But Lestat had his grip around him. “Not easy, I know. I know, mon cher. But you got this, I got you. Please try for me?”

Louis’s hands clutched at Lestat’s jacket now, desperately trying to anchor himself. Lestat moved them both, navigating their bodies together to sit by the curb on the side of the parking lot. The loud music nothing but a faint echo in the open space.

“Follow me, mon cher,” he whispered. Lestat took one of Louis’s hands to his chest. “My heartbeat, can you feel it?”

Louis nodded, eyes shut closed as he tried to breathe through gritted teeth.

“Breathe with me Louis, on each count. Please, just try. You can get through this,” he said.

They stayed like that for moments, Lestat counting and Louis trying his best to breathe in time of each count. But there are moments where his slow take of breath had been interrupted by a hiccup or two. Lestat patiently continued on with the counting. Once the number ten had been reached, he tried to count back all the way from one.

It took a while… But slowly Louis slowly calmed down. His breaths matching Lestat’s, his heart no longer racing more than a hundred beats per minute.

Lestat, whose hand were also on Louis’s chest and the other on his own chest beside Louis’s own hand, came to a realization that their hearts were beating in sync.

“I don’t know what came over me,” said Louis, breaking the silence that stretched between them. “I guess I was… worried that I’m going to mess everything up.”

“No,” said Lestat firmly. “You’re not. You’re going to the dance floor and show everyone what I’ve been seeing the past few weeks. And everyone else—the panel, your competitors, the audience—they’d just be like me when I first saw you dance. Astounded. Mesmerized. And deeply enthralled by the way you move, the way you let Jesse move with you.”

“But what if we lost? I just… Maybe it’s a mistake moving to the intermediate class. I’ve only started professionally dancing last year, isn’t it too presumptuous of me to think I am on their level?”

Lestat’s fingers tightened around Louis’s hand, the gesture slow and deliberate, as though trying to steady not just Louis’s pulse—but his own. Their joined hands rested over his heart, and Lestat pressed them closer, as if willing Louis to feel the truth thudding through his chest.

“Win or lose, the most deserving or not—it doesn’t matter,” he said softly. “You’d be the most brilliant and unforgettable thing to ever grace the dance floor. Everyone’s eyes will be on you, mon cher, because how could they not? You’re the most breathtaking man that will ever step foot in that room. Heck, you’re the most breathtaking man anyone will ever have the privilege of meeting, as you have been for me.”

Before Lestat could register it, Louis threw his hands over his shoulders to kiss him.

It was over before he realized what was happening. When—

—

“Bullshit.”

Lestat blinked out of his stupor. “Excuse me?”

Daniel cleared his throat then adjusted his glasses. He pointed a finger onto his laptop screen as if anyone but him can also see it. “I call bullshit,” he said. “Louis did start the kiss, but you kissed him back. He also said you did the thing where you, and I quote, enveloped his arms around me tight as if he wanted me to be surrounded by him and only him, and he pulled me tighter against his own body, dipping me low where I had no choice but to trust him to not let me fall.”

Armand looked amused. “He really said that?”

“Louis always had his way with words,” said Daniel shruggingly. “Doesn’t sound like a one and done kiss to me, Lestat.”

Lestat can’t help but look away, trying not to meet Daniel’s eyes. “Interpretation can be quite differently when you’re in the moment.”

“He said you kissed him like a hungry animal.”

Lestat hanged his head in thought. “Okay maybe the kiss went on a little bit longer.”

“Curious,” wondered Armand. “Why lie about the kiss? What difference would it make if it was a peck or full-on frenching?”

“WE DID NO—” “A big difference really—”

Lestat and Daniel looked at each other.

“All I can say is that a real kiss—and not a stupid peck—would do less in Lestat's favor,” continued Daniel.

“It was a lapse of judgement,” butted in Lestat. “It wasn’t suppose to happen. It was…”

And yet, looking back at the kiss, Lestat can only describe it with one word.

“Louis had a different experience with the kiss,” said Daniel. “Much different than yours, am I supposed to read it from his messages or would you be more truthful now?”

Lestat sighed.

He recounted his memory.

—

Lestat felt Louis threw his arms around his shoulders, cradling his nape with one and the other in his head before bringing him down for their lips to meet.

The first brush between their lips were soft, tentative. When Lestat felt Louis pulling away, it was as if his body went autopilot. His arms snaked around Louis’s body, capturing him and pulling him closed. He kissed him back with a reverence enough to make Louis shiver. His hand slid down to the small of his back, as he pulled him closer, and even closer, and even closer to his own body.

The kiss deepened even more—gentle, inevitable and all-consuming. Lestat;s hands tightened around Louis’s waist, one splaying across the curve of his spine while the other moved up between his shoulder blades. Lestat shifted his stance and guided Louis backward with a half-step, dipping him low as he cradled his back and the other hand moving towards Louis’s hip to secure him.

Their lips against each other were firmer, their heads tilting to deepen the kiss. At that moment, Lestat wanted to breathe Louis in. He wanted to memorize him in every sense. It was as if he was under control. It was as if he wasn’t Lestat. It was as if the person he was kissing wasn’t his dear friend Louis.

It felt like he was under a spell and Lestat had no way to break out of it.

The kiss was… exhilarating.

Lestat felt like his body was on autopilot, he was no longer in control of his actions.

He pulled Louis closer to his body, capturing his bottom lip in between his own, starting the chase all over again. He tightened his hold around him. Louis moaned appreciatively as his hand on Lestat’s shoulder tightened, the other one holding onto Lestat’s hair. Lestat wanted to—

Someone coughed.

This immediately broke the spell they were under and jumped away.

He was tall and lean, with deep brown skin that caught the light in a warm sheen. A pair of thick, rectangular glasses framed his dark, thoughtful eyes, giving him a quiet intensity. His hair was neatly cropped and styled, while his clean-shaven face revealed a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. There was something careful and composed in the way he held himself—his features refined, symmetrical, and quietly striking as he wore a curious expression on his face.

“Ciprien!” exclaimed Louis as he laughed nervously, trying to fiddle with his clothes and straightening it up. “I was just— the gym was getting a bit crowded and—”

“I just came to tell you that Jesse’s been looking everywhere for you,” said Ciprien as he looked away, an embarrassed look on his face. “She just got back, I think, and she’s a little frazzled. And I think she wants to do a quick rehearsal with you?”

“Right,” spluttered Louis. “Yes right, yes. She uh, yes, she had a shoe emergency. Earlier. Strap—the strap just snapped. But she got a new one now and I’m glad she’s here and we should definitely do a rehearsal.”

“Yes,” nodded Cirprien. “She’s looking for you right there,” then he turned his body and jerked a thumb towards the direction—asking Louis to follow him.

“Of course,” replied Louis once again.

An awkward beat of silence followed. Ciprien stayed rooted on his spot, arm already pointing to a path that Louis was yet to take.

“Riiiight,” Cirprien vacillated as he let out a dry laugh. “I suppose I should go—”

“Yes,” said Louis a little too quickly. He blinked in surprise with how fast he answered. “Yes, I uhh, I will meet you later.”

“Good luck and perhaps see you in the finals?”

“See you in the finals for sure!” he exclaimed. Then his eyes darted towards Lestat.

Lestat simply stared at him.

“Goodbye, uh, to both of you,” he said lamely. “I guess?”

With that, Ciprien strutted lamely back tot he direction of the gym. The pair waitecd for him to be out of earshot before turning towards each other.

“So—” “I think—”

They chuckled out of nerves. Lestat can’t get rid of this odd feeling, like there was a weird pit in his stomach. Or perhaps even fluttering. His heart hasn’t calmed down in a while despite how much of a downer Ciprien was. And there was heat. Lestat can feel sweat dripping down his brow. His palms felt clammy like its nerve endings were on fire to end the sensation, he wanted to punch a wall or squeeze the life out of it.

He had never felt like this towards anyone before.

It was odd.

Lestat hated sweating.

And now they’re standing their, awkwardly staring at each other. When have they ever acted like this towards each other? As for as Lestat can tell, the two of them have always been in tuned—perhaps save a few times when… arguments get a little intense.

They were good with each other, and even when they’re not and prefer screaming and shouting, they still fit each other like a puzzle. That was how their friendship worked.

It was never awkward.

At the moment, it felt awkward.

Or at least, Lestat felt extremely uneasy. There was a heaviness on his chest he couldn't quite place.

“You should go first,” said Lestat.

Louis had a gentle smile on his face, a knowing look. The glint on his eyes were bright with something Lestat couldn’t quite place.. He had always been radiant, Lestat sometimes wonder how can his friend appear so perfect every time.

“So…” he started, eyes darting to the ground. He looked abashed, perhaps even shy. Did Louis perhaps feel the same awkward air too? “I have a competition soon… And I know we can’t talk about it now.”

“I know,” gulped Lestat, feeling uneasy. The strange quivers in his stomach came again and this time it was like a storm inside him, as if soon he’d be lifted in the air soon at its force. Lestat clasped his hand, feeling the fingernails dig into his palm before unclasping it. “You need your focus…”

“This is new…” Louis trailed off, biting his lip and he looked at Lestat with his dark round eyes. His long lashes fluttered.

“Definitely new,” he rasped out, throat hoarse. Oh god, Lestat didn’t know what to do. “I… Can we talk about it after dinner then? Talk about us?”

“You want to talk about us?” Louis gave him a small smile.

“Yeah…” Lestat tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “But it can wait.”

“Okay,” he gave Lestat a faint smile.

“Okay,” replied Lestat. He felt on edge and strained.

“Do you wanna go back inside?”

Lestat shook his head a little too fast he got dizzy. “No, nope, no need, no. I just, uh, need to go wash up. You go ahead and find Jesse, she’s probably going crazy by now.”

Probably not as crazy as Lestat at the moment.

“If you say so,” said Louis. Then he took a step closer to Lestat. “I’ll go deal with her then.”

Lestat nodded. “Then ‘us’ later. We’ll deal with us later.”

Louis was so close now, his eyes looking up to his, those dark brown eyes that seem to shine on its own. And Lestat’s body moved on its own, enveloping Louis in a tight hug, breathing in his scent.

“Good luck,” he whispered against Louis’s ear.

“Thank you,” whispered Louis back. There was no one else in the parking lot but them, and yet they whispered towards each other. As if afraid that they can be heard by a passing stranger, that these words were only meant to be heard by them and them alone.

With one last squeeze, Lestat had let him go.

Louis looked back at him before walking away.

Lestat stayed rooted on his spot for a good minute before walking towards the direction of the restroom. He splashed water on his face.

He will be damned before he destroys this friendship.

===

They won third place.

Both Louis and Jesse went through several rounds together, all performing sequence after sequence amongst other couples. First tangoette, then the gypsy tap, then the evening three-step, and lastly the Merrilyn. One song after the other. And after all four songs, they take out a number of pairs before proceeding to the next round.

The dance floor went from hosting more than a dozen or so pairs, slowly decreasing in number until the finals—where only two remained. For Louis and Jesse’s case, they were removed during the semi-finals.

And they just won third, climbing the podium with sweaty and tired smiles on their faces. Bronze medals hanging around their neck as they adorn proud expressions. The flashes of cameras bathing them as applause was offered. Countless photos followed, where Lestat was at the front waving his phone to get clear photos of Louis with the other winners and participants.

When it was all and done, Lestat quickly slipped away to pick a delivery from the parking lot. Just in time to meet the winners backstage.

“Lestat!” cried Louis as he entered the backstage, climbing off the high of his recent win. His eyes widened at the view of Lestat, fond and genuinely surprised. “When did you—”

“Congratulations mon cher,” Lestat grinned teasingly, feeling every bit proud of himself.

“Woah!” Another male competitor came in behind Louis. He was Benji Mahmoud, the guy who won first place. “Louis, what the fuck.”

“That’s a big bouquet,” Jesse said as soon as she saw him. “The best I got from my boyfriend was a singular rose, and here Louis was getting a humongous one.”

“How?” Moira chimed in, she just won second along with Ciprien. “Did you just know that Louis was gonna place?”

“I had a hunch,” Lestat smiled as he offered the bouquet of flowers towards Louis, who accepted it with open arms. Louis had a shy expression on his face, wearing a certain smile he seem to wear whenever Lestat was around. He was endeared, no doubt about it.

The bouquet was a giant red bouquet with stalks of red Ecuadorian roses, white lisianthus, misty white flowers, eucalyptus true blue leaves, and a huge golden topper with ‘Congratulations’ written in an elegant cursive. Louis had used both arms just to carry them, his face atop the gorgeous flowers.

“That’s soooooo sweet!” Sybelle squealed, Benji’s sister and dance partner jumping up and clapping in excitement. “Aww Louis, you’re so lucky with your boyfriend!”

“Lestat is—”

“Oh no no no,”interrupted Lestat with a nervous laugh, waving a hand. “Louis and I are just friends.”

By this Louis had whipped his head so fast, his eyes wider than it had ever been staring at Lestat.

And to his own astonishment, Lestat also noticed that everyone around him were donning expressions of varying levels of surprise as well as questioning expressions—perhaps save Jesse who just shook her head in quiet dismay.

“Oh!” said Sybelle, then she laughed a little nervously. “I just thought…”

“It’s okay, you weren’t the only one who thought that,” said Lestat. Then he laughed, a full bellied laughter that was a bit of a hollow echo. “The number of times people thought Louis and I are together—mon dieu—If I had a nickel… I would be rich enough not to mooch off my very absent father.”

“Ha ha ha… yeah…” Benji laughed, a little too loudly. “I mean, I just heard from Ciprien that—OOF!” Sybelle elbowed her brother hard. “SYBELLE! What THE HELL is wrong with you?”

Ciprien then laughed nervously before trying to switch the topic. “Alright, alright, no need to be harsh to anyone,” he said as he smiled. “I mean, it’s amazing both Louis and Jesse won third! Jesse, you got the new shoes and that’s just risky,” then he turned towards Louis. “And Louis! It’s hard to believe you just started competing last year.”

Louis just offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It was a risk, but what else can I do? Dance barefoot?” said Jesse while her eyes flickered towards Louis.

Louis said nothing at the exchanges that followed. His arms remained full of the bouquet, but his expression—once wide-eyed and stunned—began to harden into something unreadable. The kind of expression Lestat had come to know well.

“If you guys don’t mind, we—I mean Lestat, and I, need to go,” said Louis with a stoned expression, cutting through their conversation all while emphasizing the separation between Lestat and him as he spoke. He tapped Lestat by the shoulder and jerked his thumb sideways, signalling to Lestat.

Before anyone could ever say anything, Louis started pushing Lestat out of the way and into the doorways. “Aren’t we gonna stay for the other awards too?”

“Nope!” said Louis, popping the ‘p’ in his syllable. “Straight home for the both of us. My coach already said we’re good to go after our names were announced.”

“But—”

“I said, we’re leaving.”

They arrived in the parking lot where Louis shoved Lestat towards the driver’s seat, forcing him to start the car. Louis then climbed the passenger’s seat, shoving the bouquet carelessly behind him before huffing trying—and failing—to buckle his seat.

On the fifth try to buckle up, they both heard a tap on the glass window.

It was Ciprien.

Louis rolled the window down.

“I actually have a small get together in my place later. No crowds, just a small circle of friends, some food and a few bottles of wine. Do you wanna join me instead?” asked Ciprien. “Have a hot tub too just in case you wanna warm down the joints.”

“No, really, it’s okay,” replied Louis. “I promised Lestat that him and I are gonna talk.”

Ciprien peered through the window and stared at Lestat. He felt an odd sensation as Ciprien looked at him apprehensively. He doubled down by glaring at him.

“Can we talk? Just for a bit?” asked Cirprien looking at Louis.

“We have to go—”

“Actually,” interrupted Louis. “It’s fine. Lestat, wait for minute will you? Don’t want you to do—or say—anything to rash.”

Louis then stepped out of the vehicle, where both him and Ciprien walked a few feet away from Lestat’s car.

Lestat can only observe from his spot as the two talked, his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter and tighter every minute they were together. He watched as Cirprien and Louis talked, their hands gesturing and heads nodding as their mouths move at an incredible speed that he cannot even attempt to read on. Ciprien then took a step closer towards Louis, placing his hand on his shoulder as he whispered something by Louis’s ear. Louis looked up at him, a worried look on his face as he nodded in understanding.

Then Ciprien actually pressed a light kiss on his cheek.

The two parted ways as Cirprien gave him a wave while Louis walked away, giving a shy wave back.

Louis opened the passenger door and slid into his seat.

He buckled the seat in one go.

“Let’s go,” he said to Lestat.

“What did he want?” asked Lestat, gripping the wheel a bit too tight, his hands feeling clammy.

Louis did not answer him.

===

“I cannot help but think that you are far more deserving to be in first, or at the very least, second place, have you seen the pair that won the second place spot? I could’ve sworn the girl winked at the judge, non?” he can’t help but start.

He was met with silence.

Lestat tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, the rhythmic sound sharp and loud in the stern silence the car had offered.

“I—ah,” Lestat cleared his throat. “I booked us that place by the pier. The one with the vegan menu, of course I cannot forget. It is a Scottish-Mexican fusion, it sounds mildly interesting albeit a bit concerning and I can’t help but think we ought to try it.”

And once again, Louis had not responded.

“We can also go for ice cream later, afterwards, I know how much you love Gelato after physical activity,” tried Lestat once again.

Lestat glanced over, just once, hoping to catch a flicker of expression on Louis’s face, but there was nothing. Just a contemplative expressionless blank look.

He exhaled, turning back to the road.

“Tres bien,” he muttered to himself. “I cannot even comprehend why you’re suddenly mad at me. Everything was fine earlier, non? Why the sudden silent treatment, Louis?”

By this the silence was definitely starting to light something inside of Lestat. The familiar red hot rage under his skin, so reminiscent of his father and his bouts of anger. Anything was quick to set his father off, and it was unfortunately a trait he had shared with his father.

Lestat sighed and turned to his car’s screen, opting to play music to calm his nerves. He had hit play from one of his random playlists from his phone.

Two seconds had lapsed and Louis had immediately paused it.

“Finally, a confirmation that I am not alone in this car and I haven’t been imagining your presence the entire time,” Lestat said, pissed off. “What is it mon cher? Give me the silent treatment but you also don’t want me to play any music? Is that it? You want me to go insane Louis?”

Louis stubbornly remained quiet, remaining as unaccommodating as ever.\

“Can we even talk about it then?” Lestat had exasperatedly asked.

A minute or two passed. Lestat, trying to get a reaction from Louis, turned to the screen once again and tried to play another song. Louis was even quicker to put a stop to it.

“We’ll talk about it once we’re home,” said Louis as he retracted his hand from the screen.

Lestat huffed, pressed the gas pedal, and continued driving straight ahead.

“You just missed a turn,” Louis pointed out.

“Well you said you wanna talk about it at home, fine, we’re going home,” spat out Lestat, reaching the ceiling of the driving limit to speed up on their way home. “We could’ve had a nice dinner together and celebrate, but you want to be stubborn? Fine, have it your way.”

“Nice dinner? Lestat, we’re going to a Scottish-Mexican fusion, you’ve ruined dinner before it even started,” snided Louis.

—

“Seems to me you already know where you went wrong,” remarked Daniel peering through his glasses with his laptop on his lap. “Which I find a bit interesting, whereas Louis claimed you had no idea why he was mad at you.”

“I had a bit of time to reflect on my actions,” admitted Lestat. “Quite a lot of time really, but I would admit that during that time I had no idea why Louis went mad—or what it was that I had done quite wrong. I did not know that in the backstage in front of his friends, that I—”

“Humiliated him?” Armand suddenly said. “That when at that moment he thought the two of you are something, you just have to cut deep and admit to everyone—and to Louis—that you two were nothing more than friends?”

Lestat was quiet for a second. His eyes downcast towards his feet, words caught up in his mouth. He then looked back up and towards both Daniel and Armand.

A couple he once thought would never make it, and yet here they were, two years strong and working through a long-distance relationship.

“I did not know that—” he found himself not continuing.

“Did not know what Louis felt towards you?” asked Daniel. “Oh come on, Lestat, you’ve gotta know how shitty that sounds.”

“Daniel,” warned Armand. “Let Lestat talk.”

“‘Let Lestat talk’? We’ve been letting him talk for almost three hours now!” Daniel threw his hands in the air, exasperated. The laptop was placed on the side as he paced, throwing a finger towards Lestat as he cried out. “Do you know how bullshit he sounds right now? Coming to us, asking for help, and never once bringing up anything that could have given us a SLIVER of an insight to what Louis was thinking? How much shit has he been telling us Armand? I know he’s your friend and you two are in a weird do-or-die kind of friendship I can never begin to understand, but you got to stop and wonder—what the fuck is wrong with Lestat?”

Lestat glared at Daniel, standing up. “I never lied! Not once!”

“Yeah but you hid things, didn’t you?” scoffed Daniel.Louis had told you—signalled to you—what he has felt the entire time and you ignored him. That even until his ultimatum—you chose to ignore him?”

“I didn’t—” Lestat cannot continue it. What can he say at this moment? He had done an intensive reflection the past ten days after his fight with Louis, wondering what could be said and done, and yet facing Daniel… “It’s true but I—It wasn’t! —We never—”

“What? All choked up again?” Daniel jeered at him. “Five times you couldn’t think straight because of Louis? Bullshit! How about the fucking five times you and Louis fought and did not tell us about it? What were you supposed to gain from not telling us about the fights Lestat? News flash, everybody knows that while the two of you have a penchant to be the most affectionate not-a-couple friends out there, that you two fight. All. The. Fucking. Time.”

“It’s true that they fight all the time,” said Armand. “But do those fights really matter? I mean, they only ended their friendship like what, ten days ago?”

“It does,” Daniel rolled his eyes. “All their fights in every single case that Lestat presented? It matters.”

“It doesn’t,” said Lestat. “Louis just sprung out of nowhere and left me before I can even explain my side—”

“Oh really? Let’s go by it one by one then,” Daniel smirked. “Let’s talk about each one and when you continue on your little story by the time you two went back to his apartment, let’s see how it will all make sense.”

“That doesn’t even—”

Then Daniel began. “Fight number one.”

—

Fight no. 1: An Impossible Standard

Louis had a surprising revelation just a few days after Lestat’s particularly nasty head incident. The one where books and other items had fallen over his head due to a faulty shelf in the storage room.

It was Terrence with his round glasses and freckles, coming into the store all red and shy. “I left my number here the other day? So that we could be in contact for the special edition…” then he looked away and quietly added. “And maybe other things too?”

Louis knew what other things meant. It was obvious, Louis was no fool with blushing blubbering men who has a dumb look on their faces. In fact—while Louis had no intentions of doing these other things with a customer of all people—it was the sheer audacity that Lestat had once again taken away any opportunity for Louis doing other things with men he didn’t particularly like.

This was so like Lestat, pulling strings and making up shit, controlling Louis’s love life and orchestrating breakups.

He swore not to do that again. Nope. Not after the shit he pulled with Isaac Li, where Lestat had claimed that Louis was the one with a secret long distance boyfriend and is looking to cheat with others.

Louis came barging into Lestat’s apartment.

“Lestat, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” he screamed inside the apartment, Lestat who had been lounging on the couch of his own apartment groaned out loud.

“Louis please,” he said. “Around three dozen books fell down my head, I cannot handle any sound beyond fifty decibels.”

“Well it’s the fact that you threw away Terrence’s number. What’s up with that, Lestat?” he spat out the blond’s name.

“He was a slimy bastard trying to get into your pants.”

“He is a customer who I’m going to call in case one of the editions he wants is available!” shouted Louis, stomping all over the carpet. Lestat sat up, holding the cold compress on his forehead.

“Please Louis, you may act all oblivious when it comes to your belle, but he drew a heart for a reason,” he can’t help but roll his eyes. “He wants to date you.”

“You got that from a heart? Some people just do that at times,” he snided. “And even if he wants to date me—which I won’t! I don’t date customers, ever—you have no right to just decide that Lestat. I know it brings you some sick kind of satisfaction to screen anyone I date—”

“YOU ASKED ME! You were the one who asked me ‘oh Les, pwease help mwe date, I have no idea how to I’ve never been with a guy during highschool’ and then—”

“And it gives you NO right to simply barge in and control my love life. When—”

“Have the audacity to be mad at me WHEN I only looked after your best interests at heart!”

“Best interests? You mean this impossible standards you’ve placed for me? Like what? I can’t date someone who’s not taller than me? Can’t date anyone chews too loud, can’t date anyone who wears the same hoodie twice—”

“It’s because he probably doesn’t even shower!”

“Can’t even date anyone who’s not as rich as you!” Louis said. “Oh wait, not as rich as whatever your dad is because it sure as hell isn’t your money you spend.”

It was a low blow. And the look on Lestat’s face told him that it was. Louis’s heart dropped. Lestat’s relationship with his father—it was complicated and at the same time not. It was the same old story of a son unloved by a father, and a father who simply threw money around in the space where love was supposed to be. And the space—it was a hole that was too big to fill, no matter how much Lestat spends and swipes…

He never should have brought him up.

“Lestat—”

“I’m sorry for placing standards on whoever you date Louis,” said Lestat in a sarcastic tone. “I’m so sorry that I actually know your worth and would only allow you to date men who’s actually worth your time.”

And before Louis could even begin again, Lestat continued on. “I’m sorry that you need me to hold your hand and tell you how to date and who to date. I’m sorry that you felt so fucking repressed that you never even bothered to see anyone before college. And I’m so so so fucking sorry that if it wasn’t for me you’d still be the same old virgin, Louis.”

“That was not—”

“I’m sorry for thinking it fucking matters Louis, whoever gets a chance to love you. I’m sorry that I just want you to have the best fucking experience when it comes to dating because lord knows how many men are out there who are freaks who will never treat you the way you deserve to be treated. No one. So I’m sorry, that I have high standards because I know what kind of man you deserve.”

“Lestat, can’t you see?” cried out Louis. “Can’t you see that there’s no one who’s meeting your standards. No one but you!”

“No Louis, you’re wrong,” Lestat huffed and rolled his eyes. “Please, you deserve someone better than me.”

And suddenly, all the fight Louis had in him was gone. The fact that he wanted to yell at him and scream at him for interfering with his love life yet again after their agreement that Lestat wouldn’t interfere anymore—not after the Isaac Li incident. The fact that Lestat has impossible standards on Louis when it comes to dating but would continue fuck anyone with two legs and a hole. The fact that Lestat had again omitted things from him and never being rightfully honest but never quite telling the truth.

All of it was gone.

And Louis… just felt tired.

Louis really thought he had moved on from Lestat. It almost felt like it, when he finally became a freshman and went on a few dates. He can even say that some guys made Louis forget all about Lestat.

But Lestat truly knew how to reel him back in.

“I know,” he answered instead. “I just wish I could meet someone better than you.”

—

“And after that, you two talked, deciding it’s best that you stay away from his love life,” said Daniel after he recounted what Louis had told him. “You were mad of course, but you can’t do much about it.”

“I wasn’t mad.”

“Oh, right, sorry, just whining and pouting like an insolent spoiled brat,” corrected Daniel. “He never really had a say who you go out with but for some reason you do.”

“It’s because he’s not familiar with how dating works!” protested Lestat. “If I left him to his own devices—these men—you have no idea what they’re thinking.”

“Oh please, I do,” Daniel rolled his eyes. “I’m dating someone who’s exactly like the men you’re talking about.”

“I can’t even defend myself on this one,” shrugged Armand.

“A fragile peace between the both of you, and you no longer can set any dates for him because you swore to not put your nose into his business again,” Daniel stated. “Correct?”

“Yes,” Lestat said dejectedly, looking away.

He knew what was next.

“Which is weird, because then you did just that,” said Daniel. “You snooped on his things, on Claudia’s things, and then the two of you fought again.”

—

Fight no. 2: Invasion of Privacy and Unprecedented Experiments

“—and don’t worry anymore about your presentation, I just emailed the TA about it and sent your medical certificate and all is good, he said they’d discuss it with you by mail when you can do your presentation,” said Louis as he assisted Lestat to his couch. “There we go,” he said as Lestat bounced a bit on it.

Lestat groaned in pain.

“Do you need medicine again? Water? A pillow? Or is the couch that uncomfortable because I can—”

“Louis,” he said raising a hand to stop him. “It’s fine, really. I just need some rest. I wasn’t lying when I said the pain wasn’t all that bad.”

“If you say so…” said Louis. But he can never really believe Lestat. The idea of Lestat in any sort of pain—god… Louis can’t even imagine it. It was a notion he cannot even fathom without feeling a tight squeeze on his chest.

Louis went back to his room. He wanted to get something comfortable for Lestat. And while Lestat has a fair share of clothes in his apartment, he always liked dressing Lestat in silly oversized colorful sweaters Louis had bought for his colder days. Something about the sight of Lestat drowning in a pool of yarn was doing somersaults in Louis’s heart.

But what made him pause was the sight of his drawer—the one where he specifically kept his… delicates—left slightly ajar, lopsided on its rails. He pushed it gently until it clicked shut.

Huh.

Louis never left his drawers partially open. It was a quiet pet peeve of his, that drawers should always sit flush, smooth, perfectly aligned. The sight of one left even a sliver open always made his fingers itch

He opened the drawer and realized one thing. The lingerie he bought, the one that took him a ton of courage to even buy, was opened.

Louis stomped out of his room. “Is that why you got in an accident? You were late because you were snooping my stuff?”

His face morphed into various expressions in a matter of seconds. First was surprise, then a questioning look, then one of disbelief, until he settled on something more blank—more cryptic.

“No,” he answered. “I was late because I found this,” then from the coffee table, atop of all of last night’s mess and evidence of their all-nighter, was Claudia’s baby pink notebook.

The notebook.

“Lestat, it’s not what it seems.”

“That you and Claudia are running some stupid mind games and making fun of me?” Lestat tilted his head, observing Louis. “Because that’s what it says here. So all this time, the cognitive experiment, is how dumb I am? How low you think my IQ is?”

“That wasn’t the experiment!”

“I know I did not go to the traditional science field like the two of you did, or that I’m not even a prodigy like both of you but I would have never guessed that the two of you are making fun of me behind my back.”

“You’re not fucking dumb Lestat, we both know that. Shut this fucking act up, this isn’t kindergarten anymore when you’re the only one who don’t know how to read,” Louis glared at him. “That’s not what the experiment was about and you know it!”

“Test Subject’s IQ went down to seventy, he accidentally told everyone he doesn’t believe in toilet paper,” read off Lestat. “He proceeded to make firm with his stance, to save face, and in doing so he even proposed that people should start using reusable wipes whenever we shit. God, he’s so dumb every time…” Then he furrowed his brows and closed the notebook.

“Every time what?” Louis challenged him. “Read it then. Go on.”

“It doesn’t matter,” objected Lestat. “You two are making fun of my misery. I said that thing offhand because I was distracted—because I wasn’t thinking straight. I made a mistake—”

“A mistake you made because I wore a skirt,” Louis finished for him. “Because for some reason, whenever I wear a skirt, you seem to be off your game. Distracted. And hell, even now you won’t admit it.”

“Fair, I was distracted, and I paid for it. It doesn’t give you and Claudia the right to make fun of me—”

“Did you even read the first page?” asked Louis. “The very first page, Lestat. Go on, read it.”

Louis already knew what was there:

Hypothesis: The length of Louis’s skirt is directly proportional to Lestat’s IQ.

Alternative Hypothesis: It’s not, and Lestat is actually just a little numb nut.

Problem Statement: In recent weeks, there have been observable changes in Lestat’s cognitive processing and decision-making speed in relation to Louis’s fashion choices—specifically the length of his skirts and how much skin is visible. This study aims to determine whether the length of Louis’s skirt has any measurable impact on Lestat’s IQ, behavior, or ability to form coherent sentences. Or how much free food can the researcher (Claudia) score from him.

Factors:

• Emotional susceptibility of Lestat
• Exposure time to Louis’s legs
• Ambient temperature (which may influence skirt choice)
• Presence of Other Men (who, let’s face it, also ogle Louis)
• Frequency of Lestat’s sighing, stammering, or poetic declarations
• See also: did Lestat try to peek Louis’ underwear too?
  • Claudia wtf?

Variables:

• Independent Variable: Length of Louis’s skirt (measured in centimeters above the knee)
• Dependent Variable: Lestat’s IQ score based on the researcher’s guesstimations
• Controlled Variables: Time of day, lighting conditions, background music, whether Louis is also wearing heels

Start Date: September 22

End Date: idk when will the two of you confess?

Louis didn’t care anymore, Lestat can read it for all he cared. Louis’s feelings exposed on the pages of where Claudia had written them. It was a truth that had long been known between both her and him—a truth that he had long suspected that Lestat knew. And if he didn’t, Lestat should’ve at least had an inkling… right?

“I don’t need to read more about how you and Claudia decided I was some idiot lab rat to poke and laugh at,” Lestat snapped, slamming the notebook shut and pushing it an inch too roughly back onto the table.

“Oh, so that’s it then?” Louis stepped forward, voice rising. “You snoop around my things behind my back, but the moment I give you my permission suddenly you don’t want it?”

“I didn’t want to find any of this!” Lestat barked back. “Do you think I enjoy thinking you and Claudia have been laughing at me behind my back? And seeing you two write all about it—I can’t help but wonder if you’re hiding something else?” He let out a bitter laugh. “God, Louis—do you know what it feels like? Reading that from the two people you love the most?”

“Like I said, Lestat, it’s not what you think it is! Claudia and I were writing it because I—because I needed reassurance that—”

“Leave.”

Louis froze, disbelief washing over his features. “What?”

“Oh, I mean it,” Lestat said coolly, voice too steady to be anything but strained. But the flush creeping up his neck, the trembling in his jaw, betrayed him. “I’m seconds away from saying something I’ll regret. So please, go.”

“We need to talk about this, Lestat,” Louis insisted. “You need to hear me out—”

“I am cursed with my father’s temper, Louis,” Lestat cut in sharply. “And I’m trying very hard not to make this worse. So go. Just—go. We’ll talk when I’m less likely to–” then he stopped at his tracks, frowning at the idea of what he could’ve said. What he might have done if his anger had festered. “Just leave!”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “Why am I the one leaving? This is my apartment.”

“Well, my leg’s injured,” Lestat snapped, “so unless you want me to crawl out of the door, it’s gotta be you.”

“Fine!” Louis spat, storming toward the door.

“And make sure to slam it on your way out!” Lestat called after him.

Louis did.

Chapter Text

“You weren’t there, Daniel, but it was pretty funny,” Armand cut in, mid-way through Daniel narrating whatever Louis had messaged him. “Louis was sending care packages when Lestat was still healing. He wasn’t there to nurse him or hover like he usually does, but it was almost like he was.”

“Because we know a little fight won’t get in the way of our friendship,” Lestat said quickly, a little too brightly. “It was the case then, and it’s the case now—”

“It’s definitely not the case now,” Daniel said flatly. “Anyway, back to the story… Halloween. You actually left out quite a lot.”

Lestat felt heat creeping up his neck. “Some things I left out to protect my dignity.”

“Do you honestly think there’s any more of your dignity left to protect?” asked Armand. “Genuine question.”

“During the party, Louis wanted to go to the bathroom when—” then Daniel cut himself off and shook his head. “What am I saying? I am getting ahead of myself.”

“So, if I recall, when Louis told you that he’s going to Estelle’s party, you told him you’re gonna accompany him, right?” He gave Lestat a knowing look. “It never occurred to you that when you told Louis, ‘you’re coming to the party with him,’ he might’ve misunderstood that to mean ‘you’re coming to the party with him’?” he asked, adding air quotes for emphasis.

“I do not understand what you’re trying to tell me Daniel.”

Daniel sighed. “That’s exactly the problem.”

—

Fight no. 3: Promises (Un)broken

Louis knew it was a bad idea to down several cups of the suspiciously red drink and vomit green punch with glitter. He did anyway, after hearing that it had a sliver of alcohol. If Louis wanted to get drunk just to handle Lestat dressed like Alucard, he needed to get shit faced drunk.

Unfortunately, the alcohol to drink ratio was far too little and all it did was for Louis to get a bit snappy with a full bladder and nowhere near tipsy.

“God,” he muttered under his breath as he tried to pry another door knob open. It was locked. And suspicious sounds were coming from the closed door that sounded suspiciously like Santiago and the girl with a nurse outfit.

Louis sighed and speed climbed upstairs to find a different bathroom. He finally spotted another door at the end of the hallway, away from the crowd and was quiet except for the echoes of music coming from downstairs. Louis twisted the handle and pushed the door open.

“Occupied—!” came a muffled voice that was one second too late.

Louis froze.

Lestat—his Halloween date—was standing in the middle of the tiled floor with his pants halfway down his thighs, his phone held up in front of him with the front-facing camera open. The overhead light highlighted the slight glisten on his skin, the dramatic tilt of his jaw as he was clearly mid-selfie as he bit the hem of his shirt, giving a view of his toned stomach.

They both stared.

Louis’s brain short-circuited.

Lestat’s mouth opened letting the fabric fall down over his torso, then closed again, and he reflexively tried to cover himself by turning around yelling curses in French which gave Louis a good luck of his perfectly sculpted ass.

Louis slammed the door shut with a thud. “Jesus Christ!”

He turned and leaned his back against the door, eyes squeezed shut, trying to breathe. But the image of Lestat—shirt in teeth, abs on full display, bare thighs and all—was seared behind his eyelids without any of his control.

The door creaked open suddenly, and Louis stumbled backward as Lestat peeked out. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know anyone was coming up here—I thought everyone was downstairs—I was just!—”

“Get out,” Louis muttered, shoving Lestat out of the doorway, not even looking him in the eye. “Move.”

Lestat, for once, didn’t argue as he sidestepped with his phone still in hand and cheeks flushed.

Slamming the door again, Louis finally relieved himself. As he washed his hands, the water felt cool on his palms. He couldn’t help but splash cold water on his burning face as he stared himself in the mirror.

He stayed like that for a few long moments—palms pressed against the cool porcelain, eyes fixed on his reflection, waiting for the flush in his cheeks to fade and the frantic rhythm of his heart to slow.

When his pulse finally evened out and he no longer looked like he was about to combust, Louis opened the door.

Lestat, who was sitting on the floor by the doorway, immediately shot up. “Louis!”

“Sorry for… Actually, no. Why am I apologizing? You’re the one who left the door unlocked when you were taking nudes,” then Louis frowned. “Really? Here at the party?”

Lestat shrugged.“There’s a really hot angel whose ass I wanna tap. One who is, tragically, trapped in a frat party full of shirtless guys who think body spray and face paint counts as a Halloween costume,” said Lestat. “I needed to up my game.”

“Oh,” Louis said, too quickly. “Yeah. Sure. That makes sense,” he then laughed humorlessly, finding the situation absurd.

He tried to keep his face neutral, but something inside him turned sour. He hated that he felt disappointed. Hated that he even let himself believe, just a little, that tonight was about them. Something to turn things around when they just had a pretty nasty fight less than two weeks ago.

This was the first time they’re spending Halloween together. And Louis sometimes can’t help but try to think or be hopeful that something between them was changing. That this was one of those changes.

But then Lestat pulls another Lestat and they’re back to square one. Once again, Louis was attending a party all dressed up hoping for Lestat to look at him, all while Lestat had eyes on another.

Lestat tilted his head, eyeing him. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You look like you just swallowed a lemon.”

Louis let out a tight laugh. “Maybe I did. Or maybe I just forgot that coming with you doesn’t actually mean coming with you.”

Lestat blinked, confused. “Wait—what?”

“Forget it,” Louis muttered, brushing past him. “Go back to your phone. Leave the party or whatever, if you’re really worried your fucking chicken-winged twink will flap away or something. Just go and leave me.”

“Louis,” Lestat said, stepping forward. “I don’t get it. I’m here, aren’t I? I said I wanted to go to this party with you. I didn’t—”

“Please,” muttered Louis. “Not when it looks like you’re more excited for what comes after the party. Why are you here Lestat? Why does it sound like I’m just a chore or another box of your to do list before you fuck someone else? Haven’t you ever thought that—”

“GUYS,” some guy—Tuan Pham, Louis thought—called out. “Estelle wants to play truth or dare downstairs. You two up?”

Lestat has this satisfactory grin on his face, as if he can’t wait for something. He whipped out his phone and typed something on it.

And before Louis could even glance on what it was he was texting, Lestat quickly locked the screen while warily watching Louis. Lestat slipped his phone back into his pocket, trying—poorly—to appear casual, but he was buzzing with energy.

He was texting that twink again, probably.

Lestat smiled faintly, like the interruption had saved him. “Sure, we’ll be down in a sec.”

Louis gave him a long, unreadable look. “We?”

Lestat tilted his head. “Well… yeah. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

He didn’t respond. He just turned and walked toward the stairs, his footsteps heavier than usual. Lestat followed closely behind, his presence never leaving Louis. “Make sure to sit beside me,” he said.

Louis didn’t even look at him. “Whatever.”

The truth and dare occurred, and Louis knew one thing was that Lestat’s weird mildly co-dependent relationship with Armand pushes Lestat to try to separate Louis and Armand as much as possible. Not when Armand had complimented Louis far too many times and Louis, in turn, also told Lestat he had found Armand quite attractive.

So Louis had no qualms sitting on Santa’s lap.

Unfortunately, it just made Lestat leave the party quicker—right into someone else’s arms.

—

“But then you called him later, just when the fire went out,” Daniel recounted the story. “And he was so angry at you. The two of you started screaming at each other that the neighbors would’ve evacuated—fire or no fire.”

“I came back home and they were both in tears,” recounted Armand. “I couldn’t even be mad at the espresso machine at the moment, because they’re choking on their tears and about to die.”

“If you’re not going to add anything of substance I think you should go,” Lestat shooed him away.

“You started an intervention so we could help you.”

“I started an intervention so Daniel could help me, so leave.”

“That’s preposterous, this is my apartment! I have the right to—”

Daniel simply continued with the next story amidst Armand’s whines.

—

Fight no. 4: The Year We Never Talked About

“Hey,” said Louis.

“Hey yourself,” cheekily replied Lestat.

The song that played had a slower tempo, cascading in a symphony of a harmony Louis couldn’t name of. At that moment, the song didn’t matter because all Louis could hear was the loud rush of blood pulsing in him, hammering in his ears.

Louis had his hand on Lestat’s shoulder, while the other one was stretched out, holding Lestat’s own hands. It was big, enveloping his entire hold, but Louis felt safe at the moment. The hold on his waist was tight, secure, and warm.

They swayed together. Just the two of them. Just Louis and Lestat under the a thousand lights that seemed dull compared to the stars of the night sky.

“What happened earlier…” trailed off Louis.

“I know,” Lestat said lowly, as if someone could hear them. As if any star was witness and could hear their conversation, all while Lestat desperately tries to hide it from them. “I know I shouldn’t have meddled and—”

“You should be more careful, Lestat,” Louis interrupted. “You were joking earlier, but it wasn’t funny. I was terrified.”

“Of a man covered in suds jumping in front of a truck?” Lestat teased, but his voice lacked conviction.

“Of you getting hurt,” Louis said, exhaling sharply. “You’ve seemed… distracted lately. Like you’ve forgotten how to care for yourself.”

The books falling on Lestat’s head… The bike incident… The fire… Now the car wash? Lestat was driving Louis into an early grave.

“I was worried about you,” Lestat replied, his gaze locking onto Louis’s. “Can you blame me? Me getting hurt was a paper cut compared to the idea of you going back to something that broke you. Is it really that foolish—to want to protect you from pain?”

Louis’s expression softened, but his voice held firm. “I know you were worried. But that doesn’t mean you get to throw yourself into danger.”

They had stopped swaying now, though neither stepped away. Chest to chest, breath to breath, they were impossibly close. A single heartbeat could’ve bridged the gap.

“I never wanted you to get hurt, Lestat,” Louis whispered. “The idea of you in pain, in any form… I can’t think of anything more unbearable.”

“I apologize then,” he said genuinely, which surprised Louis a little. “I was just scared you’re…”

“Jonah was never gonna hurt me Lestat, I can handle him.”

“No, not Jonah, I was scared you’re gonna pull away from me again.”

“No, not Jonah,” Lestat said quietly. “I was scared you were going to pull away from me again. That… you were going to ignore me again.”

Louis blinked, the words striking something deep. His throat tightened.

“I was having the worst time, Lestat,” he said slowly, like peeling open an old wound. “But I didn’t ignore you. I know there were sometimes days between messages, but that was the best I could do. It might’ve seemed like I forgot you—but I didn’t. Every minute of the day, I felt guilty—not answering your texts, your calls. But it was all I had. It was killing me that I felt like I couldn’t talk to you.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Lestat’s voice cracked just slightly.

“I don’t know…” Louis swallowed. “I felt like I couldn’t. I felt paralyzed. That whole year—my body was on autopilot. Half the time, I had no idea what I was doing. Everything was a blur. Nothing felt real. Something was wrong and I didn’t know what it was…”

“I could’ve helped,” Lestat said, stepping closer. “If you had just told me.”

“I couldn’t even admit to myself that something was wrong, Lestat. How could I tell you?” Louis’s voice trembled. “And you… you had your own problems. Gabrielle moved away the moment you stepped foot in college. I didn’t want to pile on—not when I didn’t even have a name for what I was feeling. Even now, I don’t fully understand it. It was like…”

“Like?”

“Like my mind wasn’t in my body,” Louis said, finally. “Like I was just watching everything happen. I had no energy for anything. I could’ve stayed in bed for days if Merrick didn’t knock on my door every morning just to get me up and force me to go to school.”

“Louis…” Lestat whispered. “I… I didn’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis said. “I know I was a bad friend. But that year—I was barely living. I couldn’t do the things I wanted to. I felt paralyzed, willing myself and trying to get myself to do things I wanted to but it was as if there’s a force stopping me. And what I had with Jonah… it wasn’t healthy. I couldn’t blame him, either, the way it went down. He was the new shiny thing in my life and I pinned all of my happiness and will to live on him. He couldn’t carry that—he was going through his own shit too. I shouldn’t have done that to him. And I couldn’t do it to you.”

Lestat didn’t say anything at first. Then, slowly, he reached out, cupping Louis’s face in his hands. The warmth of his palms against Louis’s skin was grounding. It made Louis feel like he hadn’t drifted too far.

“I probably couldn’t have fixed anything,” Lestat said, voice soft. “There are things that I can’t ever help you with. But I need you to know, I would’ve stayed anyway. Even if you pushed me away. Even if you couldn’t speak. Even if your brain tries to trick you into thinking you’re alone in this. I never want you to feel alone, Louis.”

Louis’s eyes searched Lestat’s, something delicate and raw flickering in the quiet between them.

And then, without really thinking—without planning—he leaned in.

Only for Lestat to turn his face, just enough that Louis’s lips landed gently against his cheek instead.

Louis froze.

“I—” he pulled back immediately. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s okay,” Lestat said quickly, still holding Louis’s face but no longer meeting his eyes. “It’s… fine.”

There was an awkward beat. Something fragile hovered in the air, not quite broken, but changed. Louis took a small step back, blinking like he’d just woken from something.

“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” he said, his voice a little too soft, a little too fast.

“It’s not weird,” Lestat replied, even though it was. His tone was gentle, careful. “I just…” then he turned and his expression morphed from gentleness into one of faux confidence and rigor. The kind of look that Louis happened to dislike on him. “You know what’s a good idea? Food. I know the pizza is cold, but I think it’s time for us to feast.”

“Yeah,” he said, trying not to let his disappointment be known. “Food. That’s probably smart.”

—

“You pied him off,” said Daniel. “He tried to kiss you and you turned to the other cheek.”

“He was vulnerable, Daniel,” said Lestat. “He was hurting and he wanted something he normally wouldn’t.”

Armand then butted in. “I think he wanted something he normally do on a daily basis—”

“And yet you kissed him right after his panic attack before his competition,” said Daniel as he disregarded Armand.

“That’s why it was wrong,” he ran a hand over his face, then pinched the skin in between his fingers. “It was wrong if I tried to kiss him that night, and it was wrong that I kissed him in the parking lot. Louis was emotionally vulnerable in both moments. The kiss would’ve been a mistake, and as you can see now that the kiss was definitely a mistake.”

“How did Louis take it?”

“Not too good,” said Lestat. “The following days after the carwash incident, there was a restrained relationship between us. He thinks of it often, our almost kiss, the same way I had. It was the right thing to do, but Louis couldn’t have realized that.”

“Because despite not kissing him, you were confusing him with the way you act. Hence your fight after you got caught speeding.”

“Speeding? Or is it called slowing?”

“Shut up Armand,” both Daniel and Lestat said.

Fight no. 5: The Not Date

“Armand sounded so mad,” said Lestat as they got back inside Lestat’s place. “Thank god he’s on his way to San Francisco right now or I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”

“I’m never riding a motorcycle ever again,” Louis said with a huff of his breath as he collapsed on Lestat’s couch. Tired, and it wasn’t just because of the long walk.

Lestat sat beside him. “Yeah, me too.”

Louis tugged on his skirt lower, it had ridden up a bit when he slouched on the couch. “I don’t even know why you’re there.”

“Excuse me?”

“I told you I was about to go on a mixer,” he turned to look after him. “I wasn’t inviting you, and you showed up.”

“It was an open invitation!” pointed out Lestat, defensive. “Anyone can come and you’re mad because I wanted to go?”

“I wasn’t mad that you wanted to come, I’m mad because why are you coming with me,” said Louis, feeling disappointment once again. “And not only that, you showed up with a motorcycle!”

“You said you always wanted to ride one.”

“Yes, but because the guy I wanted to get to know owns one!” Louis threw up his hands. “I was hoping to ask him for a ride.”

“Oh, so that’s what this is about?” Lestat leaned forward. “You’re mad because I cockblocked you?”

“Lestat, are you hearing yourself?” Louis snapped. “Didn’t we agree you were staying out of my dating life?”

“I am staying out of it! You didn’t say you were trying to—what? Score tonight?”

“That’s not the point—of course I didn’t want you to know!” Louis said, voice cracking slightly.

“When you said stay out of your dating life, I didn’t think you meant completely out of it! What, are you gonna get married one day and not even invite me?”

“You know that’s not why I didn’t tell you.”

“Then what is it?”

Louis exhaled sharply, the air between them heavy. “This thing between us,” he said, finally. “You say you want to spend Halloween with me—but not with me. You plan elaborate surprises for me, but then pull away when I try to kiss you. You tell me you don’t want me, but last night during the movie you were curled up around me like we were—” He shook his head. “I don’t know what we are. You confuse the hell out of me, Lestat.”

Lestat looked at him for a long moment. Then, voice quieter now, he said, “We’re friends, Louis. That’s what we are. Just… closer than anyone else.”

Louis laughed—just once, dryly. “It doesn’t feel like we’re just friends.”

Before Lestat could respond, the door swung open.

It was Armand. “I came back as soon as I heard, what do you mean my Harley was totaled?” Armand’s voice rang through the apartment. “Christ, Lestat, I gave you the keys and somehow you got caught speeding. Speeding!”

He stepped into the room, dark coat still clinging to him, and took one look at the tension crackling between the two friends. Louis still sat rigidly on the couch, Lestat stood awkwardly nearby with his jaw set.

Armand blinked. “Oh. Are you two in the middle of a fight?”

“No,” said Lestat.

“Yes,” said Louis, at the exact same time.

“Ooookay,” said Armand. “I can just stay in my room and let you two fight it out.” He walked toward the hallway and gestured vaguely over his shoulder. “You know, I soundproofed my room to keep the noises in. I never realized how effective it’d be at keeping the noises out.”

“No, Armand, it’s okay,” said Louis, standing up. “I’m leaving anyways.”

“Leaving?” Lestat raised a brow.

“Well, we’re not in a fight, are we?” Louis said tightly. “Everything’s fine. We’re all fine. Our friendship is just fine!”

“Louis, that’s not—at least let me drive you home,” Lestat offered, taking a step forward.

“I’m not going home, Lestat.” Louis turned to him, voice sharp. “I dressed up tonight. I actually made an effort. And another friend of mine is at the bar, so maybe I’ll get a few drinks.”

Lestat stiffened. “Friend? Who? The motorcycle guy?”

“Maybe,” Louis said with a shrug, eyes flashing. “Who the hell cares? I mean—you’re just my friend. What does it matter to you if I go off and do friend things and let him rut into me while we watch Netflix?”

Lestat’s mouth opened, stunned. “Louis, what the fuck are you saying?”

Louis grabbed his coat and started walking. “Good night, Lestat.”

—

"A bit hard to believe you two made up after that," Daniel remarked.

"Louis had a competition to focus on," Lestat replied. "He needed to keep his head clear, so after the fight, we—"

"—pretended like nothing was wrong," Daniel finished, voice flat. “Not talk about it and go back to the regular programming of will-they-don’t-that of the Louis and Lestat show.”

"I wouldn’t put it that way but yes," said Lestat. "Which, in hindsight, was a terrible idea. Because all that pent-up anger and resentment didn’t just disappear. It sat there—festering. And when we got home from the competition…"

Lestat closed his eyes, recalling the whole fight and how it went down. "Everything exploded,” he summarized.

===

Home meant Louis’s apartment. Lestat had many associated memories in it, both good and the bad—the former more than the latter. Lestat can even remember the moment where he had helped Louis move into the place, then meeting Lily, then enjoying their first take out cross-legged on the floor because the dining table they had ordered hadn't even arrived yet.

It was a striking difference, two years in. The walls were no longer bare, the furniture no longer pristine and new, and every corner was marred with some memory one way or another.

When they arrived that night, Louis stormed in first, slamming the door behind him before Lestat could even step inside.

Lestat sighed and opened the door gently, closing it with a soft click behind him. “What is going on with you, Louis?”

“You seriously don’t know?” Louis let out a bitter laugh. “You humiliated me in front of my friends earlier and you have no idea what you did wrong?”

“Humiliated you?” Lestat blinked. “When exactly? By cheering you on? By buying you that bouquet—which, by the way, was ridiculously overpriced thanks to the rush order? By being a good friend?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that we kissed—and then you turned around and told everyone we were just friends!”

“Kissed?” Lestat scoffed. “You kissed me.”

“And you kissed me back!”

Lestat hesitated. “Louis… about that—” he trailed off. “You have to understand, it was nothing but a—”

“A mistake?” Louis cut in sharply.

“A momentary lapse of judgment,” Lestat said, carefully. “We got caught up in the emotions of the moment and—Wait. How exactly was that humiliating? No one even saw it. How would anyone have known unless— Did you tell someone?”

“No! Are you serious—”

“So what, you’re just telling people now?” Lestat snapped. “You lectured me all about invasion of privacy but now you’re going around talking about us to everyone—”

“I didn’t tell everyone. Ciprien might’ve mentioned something in the dressing room, that’s all.”

“Ciprien?” Lestat’s voice sharpened. “That blabbermouth? That fucking rat—this entire thing was between us, and now it’s becoming way bigger deal than it ever needed to be.”

“Don’t you dare talk about him like that!” Louis stepped forward. “I know you’re pissed at me, but that doesn’t give you the right to attack him.”

“Why?” Lestat snapped, bitter. “Because you like him? Because you’re fucking him on the side now? That guy’s not even worth your time and yet here you are, defending him like he’s some kind of saint.”

Louis stared at him, stunned. “Oh my god—are we really doing this again? This whole paranoid, delusional shtick where you think every man who’s remotely kind to me is trying to get in my pants?”

“Well maybe he wouldn’t be such a damn blabbermouth if he wasn’t hoping to get to you.”

“You’re mad at me, Lestat. Not Ciprien. He has nothing to do with this.” Louis’s voice rose, sharp with frustration. “You’re being possessive again—over something that’s none of your business!”

“Then why did your friends know about the kiss?” Lestat demanded. “God, this is just like when you used to defend Claudia, even when she was making fun of me.”

“You’re bringing that up again? Seriously?” Louis laughed, incredulous. “She already explained it to you, I already explained the entire thing with you and you’re just gonna bring it back all over again? Look Lestat, there wouldn’t be anything to tell if you didn’t kiss me back! Why the hell did you kiss me then?”

“Because!” Lestat threw his hands in the air. “Because you were in a vulnerable state. Because you looked—so hurt. You saw what happened the last time you tried to kiss me. You looked devastated, like I shattered you. You didn’t talk to me for days.”

“So you kissed me to spare my feelings?” Louis said, voice tight. “You felt sorry for me? You’re worried over my mental health?”

“I don’t know!” Lestat shouted. “It’s hard to tell what’s real with you lately. One minute you’re pissed, the next you’re acting like we’re fine. Like nothing’s wrong. Like you’re pretending it’s all okay again. Everything can set you off Louis, so forgive me if I was careful when you kissed me right after you—”

“You kissed me back, Lestat,”said Louis quietly, the edge of hurt finally creeping in.

“It was a mistake, Louis. I just… I didn’t want to hurt you. But you already know—” He took a breath. “We can’t.”

Louis stepped forward, eyes locked on him. His eyes stern, waiting. “Why? Tell me. Right now. Why not?”

“I… I don’t know,” Lestat admitted. The sinking feeling on his chest came back every time the idea of love—of Lestat loving someone—entered his mind. He can’t love Louis like that, and Louis deserved way more than Lestat. “I just think it’s a bad idea.”

“So what—you’re saying that all this time, we’re just friends? You driving me around. Picking me up. Dropping me off at work. Weekly movie nights where you just casually drape yourself around me like you never want to let go. Jumping in front of a goddamn truck at a functioning car wash because you thought I was getting back with my toxic ex—those are just friends things to you?”

“Yes,” Lestat said, a little too fast. “We’re friends. We’re just… closer than anyone else.”

Something shifted—clicked—in Louis’s mind. His voice dropped. “Oh my god.” He covered his mouth with his palm in disbelief, eyes wide as he shook his head. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Louis?” Lestat stepped forward. “What’s wrong?”

“This!” Louis gestured between them, his voice rising. “These fights! We’ve been through this already. We’ve had these conversations before. And now we’re right back where we started—fighting about the same things, saying the same bullshit, and you still can’t give me a straight answer.”

Lestat bristled. “Maybe we wouldn’t have to fight again and again if you hadn’t changed.”

Louis reeled, surprise painted over his features. “Excuse me?”

“This whole thing, this whole new you,” Lestat said, motioning vaguely toward Louis. “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting?” Louis repeated, incredulous.

“I just—” Lestat’s voice faltered. “I just wish things weren’t so complicated.”

Louis laughed bitterly. “Before what?” He stepped in closer, eyes blazing. “Exactly when, Lestat. Give me a point in time you wish our relationship—our friendship—could go back to.”

“I don’t know!” Lestat snapped. “I think it started when you wore a skirt for the first time. It’s like—I can’t think straight when I see you like that.” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before locking eyes with Louis. “Sometimes I just wish things were simple again. But now… I can’t stop thinking about you. And when you wear those skirts—when you walk into a room like you finally know who you are—I go insane. You’re confident, radiant, and it terrifies me because I—”

He faltered, and continued on. “Sometimes I can’t help but wish you’d go back to the way you were before. Back when you weren’t occupying every single thought in my head.”

The moment he said it, a sharp pang struck his chest. He covered his mouth, almost not believing that he could say this to Louis at all.

Louis froze, eyes wide in disbelief. “…What?” he said, voice cracking.

Lestat’s heart sank the moment he saw Louis’s expression. “Wait—no, Louis. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry, I—”

“You want me to go back to who I was before?” asked Louis, his voice quiet and shaking. “Seriously? After everything?”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” insisted Lestat, panic rising. He took a step closer towards Louis, who just backed away from him.

“So it’s easier for you if I just go back to being repressed?” Louis asked, his voice rising. “Back when I didn’t know who I was? When I didn’t have the courage to explore what made me feel right in my own body?”

“Louis, please, listen to me—”

“Back to pretending I was someone I wasn’t?” Louis cut in, his voice cracking. “Back to keeping my head down and praying no one notices I’m different? Back to forcing myself into a version of me that made you, made everyone back home, more comfortable?”

“Louis, no,” Lestat said, reaching out. “I never meant that. Please believe me.”

“Then why did you say it?” Louis asked, tears falling freely now. “You—of all people—how could you say that? Do you know how much it took to get here? Every day I tell myself that it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, because I know at least you would be there. That I could count on you to have my back.” He shook his head, voice raw. “And then you say that. Like I’m some kind of problem to manage. Like who I am now is too much.”

Lestat stepped forward and gently took Louis by the shoulders. Louis tried to look away, but Lestat didn’t let him.

“No,” said Lestat, softly but firmly. “That is never what I meant. I will always be your biggest supporter, Louis. Always. I just—sometimes I say the wrong thing when I feel like I’m losing you. You’re not too much. You’ve never been too much. I will always be your biggest supporter, I will always be by your side no matter what.”

Louis broke, burying his face into Lestat’s shoulder, the sob escaping before he could stop it. Lestat immediately wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, steadying him with quiet whispers of apologies.

But then Louis pulled away—abruptly, firmly.

“Lestat,” he said, his voice grim and low, the tears still wet on his cheeks. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” said Lestat as he tried to cradle Louis’s head in his hands. Louis, however, slapped his hands away as if the touch just burned him.

-

“This,” Louis said, motioning between them, voice rising. “This… weird in-between thing. You say I’m just your friend but then you—” He gestured behind the couch, where the bouquet sat forgotten on the dining table. “You give me flowers. You pick me up from work. You do everything and more than what a boyfriend would do—and yet you insist that you aren’t. That we’re not. That we’re just friends.”

“Louis—”

“I’m putting a stop to it.”

Lestat stiffened. “A stop to–to what exactly?”

“I’m giving you an ultimatum, Lestat,” Louis’s eyes held Lestat’s, his voice wasn’t wavering and his eyes casted a deep genuine and stern look. “I need you to decide, once and for all. We become real friends… or we stop being cowards.”

“Real friends? What does that even mean?”

“I meant no more of the bullshit you pull every time,” said Louis, voice sharp. “You don’t have a say whenever I go out with someone—no say at all when you see someone interested in me. If someone gives me their number, or someone I’m dating did something you don’t like, you would have to shut up and not interfere anymore. When I’m wearing my skirts, you’re no longer allowed to compliment me—”

“I was only being supportive—”

“You were being flirty Lestat,” he snapped. “You said you get confused by me, well, if you’re a real friend then don’t. You can’t snoop around my things anymore, no more showing up unannounced to my dates, and you can’t just… cheer me up when I’m down like that by staging an elaborate dance with fairy lights no more of that Lestat,” he huffed. “No more of the movie nights where we end up cuddling. We can’t share the same bed anymore either. Actually, no scratch that—no more sleepovers at all.”

“Louis—” said Lestat as he stepped forward toward him, but Louis held up a hand.

“We need distance,” said Louis firmly. “You can’t just barge into my place like you always do. No more seeing each other every single day—stop it! We’ll only see each other during the big events: the birthdays, shows, maybe even the occasional group dinner. No more buying me things, no more building my furniture for me, and no more going out of your way and building your class schedule just so you can see me.”

“Louis…” he called out, voice hoarse. “I do all of those things because I wanted to—because I care about you.”

“Well, don’t,” replied Louis flatly. “From now on, we’ll have clear and distant boundaries.”

Lestat’s jaw tightened. “Or?” he asked. “You said there was another option.”

Louis didn’t hesitate. “Or we go on a date.”

That shut Lestat up.

“A real one,” continued Louis, voice calm but final. “Where we both know it’s a date. No pretending. No excuses. We see where this goes,” Louis then gestured between them.

Lestat stared at him, stunned. The silence stretched.

He couldn’t. He wasn’t worthy. He wasn’t stable, wasn’t sure he even deserved Louis in the first place.

Of course he’d thought about it—countless times. Louis has always been attractive. Since middle school, even when Louis had braces and wore that oversized hoodie. Since high school, breakouts and awkwardness. Everyone knew he was gorgeous and beautiful and kind, even when Louis was painfully unaware of it.

And Lestat knew how well they fit. How natural it felt, how easy it would be to fall in love with him if he let himself fall in love with him.

That’s why he promised himself back then that he never would. Because if he did—

“I don’t… Why do I have to choose?” Lestat finally said, his voice quiet. “Why do we have to change anything? We’ve always been closer than anyone.”

“Because you have to let me move on from you Lestat!” cried out Louis, his voice cracked both raw and tired. “It’s been so long. I thought I already moved on from you and you just have to reel me back in. I can’t anymore. We can’t do this stupid co-dependent thing we have going on where everyone mistakes us for being together but we’re just fucking friends. So yes, you have to choose,” he said. “You have to choose, you owe it to me after what you said.”

Lestat didn’t answer.

He sank into the couch like all the air had gone out of him. The room fell into silence, heavy and unmoving. Seconds dragged into minutes. Louis had stopped crying, but his eyes were red and puffy and every breath sounded like it scraped against his throat.

Finally, Louis broke the silence.

“I’m tired Lestat,” he whispered as he stood up and walked to the door of his bedroom. “Leave the apartment and make sure to lock it on your way out.”

The door to Louis’s bedroom softly clicked, the muffled cries of Louis heard by no one but Lestat.

Lestat was left sitting there, alone. The bouquet of flowers lying limply beside him.

—

“You told a gay black man who grew up in a devout Catholic household whose mother claims that all gay men deserves to burn in eternal damnation and any sign of his femininity should be ostracized, that you wished him to go back to who he was before,” said Daniel. “Back to when he’s closeted, afraid, always insecure and hiding from everyone including himself.”

“I never ever meant to say that,” said Lestat as he looked down, hand running to his hair once again and pulling at its strands. “I just… It came out before I knew it was coming out. I regret saying it, and I will apologize for it every day if he would let me.”

And Lestat did. Waiting for Louis every time he gets out of class, standing outside his apartment building because he no longer has the key to get inside, and texting him almost every hour of the day and calling him despite frequent rejections.

Lestat had resorted to writing letters just to apologize to him and send it by mail, but there was no way of telling if he had opened any one of them.

Daniel ignored him. “Back to when he’s always on the verge of a panic because he’s afraid he’s gonna get find out. And guess what, his mother did find out. He got outed to his family and got threatened multiple times to be disowned and cut him out from the trust until his aunt stepped in with an actual legal backing,” recounted Daniel one by one.

“That’s… How did you know that? When did this happen?”

“Does it matter?” asked Daniel. “College was supposed to be his salvation, Lestat. You can draw one clear line between his life then and right now, and you’re the only one that survived that passed through that line. And you told him you wanted things to go back to the way it was… How fucking dare you? What kind of fancy marbled floor did your head get dropped to when you were a baby?”

“We seriously need to beat Lestat up,” said Armand. “Actually, we needed to beat him up like a few stories ago, but this time I’m serious.”

“I know,” Lestat didn’t even fight him on this.

“Nah,” said Daniel. “Look at him Armand, he just lost Louis. Is there anything worse than that for the life of Lestat de Lioncourt? They’re no longer friends.”

“How?” asked Armand. “He gave you a choice between being friends or going on a date. What do you mean you two are no longer friends.”

“The next day, he called me if I finally decided,” he recounted. “I said no, I couldn’t possibly choose between that. I can’t date him, but I know I can’t just be this distant friend of his, no. It will kill me. I told him exactly that through our call, and Louis was quiet the entire time, waiting for me to finish. I kept on begging him if I should really pick—if there’s any other way for him to understand and listen to me. But no. He ended the call and that was answer enough.

“The following day, I caught him during his work. He asked me once again. And so, once again, I told him I cannot pick any of the choices he gave me. To know him and to be far from him, to be his friend and lack any of the things that made our friendship special, I cannot do it. If Louis and I go by his definition of real friends, it is not a friendship I could survive. But the alternative—me going out with him? It would be the worst thing and he cannot understand this even if I tried to explain it.

“He told me to get out of the store. His boss found that we were fighting, and she promptly kicked me out and banned me unless Louis gave her a go signal that it’s okay to let me in.”

“Then the D-Day has come,” bellowed Daniel.

“Yes,” said Lestat. “After that day in the bookstore, I just went to class almost dead to my feet when I saw him…”

===

There were many things that Lestat considered to be the greatest mistakes of his life.

First on the list was telling Louis he wanted him to go back to who he was before, dismissing his entire journey of self-discovery and freedom. The second one was perhaps begging his father and brothers to reciprocate his love to them, which might be the most humiliating thing he had ever done as well.

The third one was the fact that he had signed up for a 7AM class for a GE.

He was dead set on his feet, walking on autopilot as the lids on his eyes were heavy. Unfortunately, he was running late and wasn't even able to get a cup of coffee from the rush. He was fighting against sleep the entire lecture, and his professor caught on, calling him out and making him summarize last night’s assigned reading. His sleep-addled brain couldn’t even comprehend his professor’s request and instead he just admitted out loud that he hadn’t read the reading.

Lestat’s body was on autopilot. His next class wasn’t until 11 AM and he could squeeze in a nap inside the student lounge area.

“Lestat,” he heard Louis’s voice calling out to him. A voice he had missed so much he almost thought he hallucinated it.

There he was. Louis de Pointe du Lac was standing by the corridor. He was wearing a black velvet midi skirt with a high slit, where he can see Louis was wearing sheer stockings. He was wearing a black baby tee cropped top and a blue cardigan over it, softening his look.

Lestat couldn’t breathe.

Every cell on his body was awake and active again. “Louis!” he practically yelled, running to where Louis was standing. “I–hi, how are you? Louis, you have to understand, I’m so sorry—”

Louis held out a hand to stop Lestat from rambling. “I was thinking you and I could get breakfast.”

“Breakfast?”

“Yeah, I was thinking AppleBees’? Like old times?” Then he smiled and suddenly everything felt right in the world. “My treat this time.”

They walked together towards the diner. Louis told him a story about his fiasco with Lily last night, when they attempted to cook some katsu curry but ended up burning it. Lestat laughed at it while he told him what happened earlier during class, how he was humiliated but he was too sleepy to notice, and how his classmates were also half-asleep.

They arrived and they had their orders. Louis got some vegan pancakes that were dyed green, for some reason. Lestat ordered waffles and bacon, with three orders of black coffee. Louis started telling him little updates, within the past few days of their lack of communication. His neighbor who’s having an affair, Catt Damon getting some stray cat pregnant, and his class project that’s yielding positive results.

It was just two days, and Lestat had missed so much. He can’t ever be apart from him. He wanted to be part of Louis’s day, from the very start to the finish instead of hearing a summary.

Once their food was all gone, Louis asked for the check. They were waiting for the waiter to come back when Louis looked at him with a serious look on his face. Gone were the casual and light expression from earlier.

“Have you decided?” he asked, once again.

“Yes,” said Lestat. “I decided to choose neither.”

Louis let out a loud disappointed sigh. “I expected this.”

“Louis, please, you know I can’t just be a regular friend on the side. And we can’t date, it’s a bad idea, I swear to you.”

“I asked you to choose, and until now you can’t,” he fiddled with his fingers. “But I already expected that, so I’m choosing for the both of us,” then he looked at Lestat point-blank. “You want neither right? Then that’s it. We can’t be friends anymore Lestat.”

“What do you mean we can’t be friends anymore?”

“It means I’m done, Lestat. Done with you, done with this weird in between, done with how you’re playing with me. You hate that I confuse you? Lestat, our entire friendship you were confusing me! Every minute I’m wondering what exactly are we because sure as hell we aren’t just friends.”

“Louis, you must be joking, come on!”

“But I’m not,” said Louis. “I’m serious. I asked you to pick between two things, let me move on or we finally see if there’s something between us or not. You chose neither.”

“But we’ve been friends for almost ten years now! You’re the person I trust the most, and you’re just cutting me off? Just like that?”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” lamented Louis. “Maybe… this friendship isn’t what it used to be. Maybe it’s finally reached its end. Maybe it's finally time for us to let each other go.”

“Are you hearing yourself? Louis, you are the one permanent thing in my life that I can never ever let go. Louis, please, I don’t know what to do without you. I just want us to be okay again.”

“I’m changing,” said Louis. “I’m no longer who I was back home. Heck, I’m no longer who I was three months ago. I’m getting more comfortable with my own skin, I’m thriving in my newfound hobbies, I have new genuine friends outside of you. I’m happy, Lestat. I’m finally discovering who I am little by little

“I hated myself then, it was the sum of all the worst parts of my shame and doubts. So when you told me you wanted me to go back to the way I was before…” he trailed off. “I would have no choice but to let you go as I have with the past I hate so much. There are so many things to experience and explore, and I cannot be friends with someone who could ever wish I was back to where I was before.”

“Louis, please, listen to me,” he begged and begged, tears spilling from his eyes. “Louis, I never ever meant it that way, please—”

“Goodbye Lestat,” he said with a sad smile. “Don’t call me anymore.”