[ the surface thoughts of adam's mind are easy to read, drifting through as if dialled into radio station. wafts of fondness, vague sensations of euphoric sparks. the type that lestat gets when adam combs fingers through his hair as if he had been doing it all his life.]
I think you may need more reminders. There are many more places on your body I wish to drink from, that I will leave to heal slowly, to bruise.
I look forward to your whimpers when I show my adoring fans my teeth marks in your thighs, your chest.
[ an image now, a suggestion pushed:
lestat pressed against adam's back, stretching him out against him with a single hand on his neck, the other hand rucking up adam's shirt to reveal bite marks to a crowd. teeth prints around a flushed and abused nipple, on the slender dip of his waist, above the jut of his hip bone. lestat's voice a dark undercurrent in his ear, whispering praise mixed with filth.]
[ the gentle flood of teasing words, then images, cause adam to curse under his breath. it's one thing to see lestat's fantasies written out over text; it's another thing entirely to picture them so clearly, without any conscious effort of his own, the colours and sounds and scents akin to a hallucination.
it's so strong that it forces adam to sit, teeth digging into his lower lip, breath coming quicker now. ]
Tonight?
[ there's a hurriedness to his thoughts now, clearly affected by the idea. it doesn't make sense - lestat would have to drain him multiple times to leave so many marks, and that would leave adam in recovery for days - but the thought alone is overpowering enough to make the human shed all reason. ]
[ laughter ripples through adam's mind, lestat's delight obvious. the ghost of his lips pressed to the corner of the mortal's mouth, the memory of the sensation as a gesture of its own.]
Perhaps not to that extent. But since you are so eager to be my victim in front of your parents, oui.
[ the sensation catches adam off guard, a hand flying to press against his skin as he gasps in surprise. he's only just begun getting used to having lestat's voice in his head; this is something entirely new.
his blood thrums in his veins. can lestat hear that, too? adam's hunger, his desire? ]
I want you to show them the kind of person I really am. Show them I'm the degenerate they always said I was.
[ anger sizzles through his words, but stronger than that is his need to be taken by lestat in any way the vampire sees fit. ]
[ there's the lick of anger, of desire. that bite lestat so cherishes, self preservation in the most primal way. his approval is a soothing wave cascading back to adam, rippling.]
My degenerate, a cherished boy. My desecration of your body will be that of mutual worship, an offering accepted on my sacred ground. A joyful corruption in spite of their horror.
[ what is it about lestat that makes adam feel so confident? at first he was terrified of the blond, even before he knew the truth about his vampiric legacy. but as they've grown closer something adam never expected has happened: he's gained lestat's respect, somehow, and that's come along with his encouragement, his desire for adam to live as true to himself as possible.
he feels free. freer than he ever has. strange, that it's happened as a result of chaining himself to this beautiful, wicked man. a flurry of emotions stirs in his chest as he listens to lestat, more powerful than a hurricane. anger. hunger. lust. pride. desperation. terror. wonder.
he thinks it without thinking it, says it without meaning to say it; in his head, on his lips, quiet and deadly and true -- ]
[ the words make lestat still, no longer maintaining the charade of his focus being in the room he was in. his brow furrows, an immediate wash of disbelief that he is unable to keep from seeping to adam too. he's caught unaware, the river of connection flowing between them not yet closed.
perhaps it is gabrielle's influence that makes him suddenly burst into hysterical laughter there in the make up chair. maybe it was nicolas, or louis. affection hard won, kind words even harder. it's difficult to believe that he had earned adam's love, let alone a declaration of such.
it's not as if he placed the words above all others. plenty of confessions had been made to him by antoinette and armand, clawing desperate things much akin to the fevour of his fans. it was the single mindedness of his entanglement with adam that made those words cut deeper, the vulnerability of seeing and being seen in return without pretense. the mess of guts and purpling flesh of his heart put on the table, far too much for most young mortals to stomach without flinching.
the discomfort of knowing that this is confirmation of adam reaching through the gore of him anyway and choosing to hold him tenderly. staining his hands bloody in the process.
all of this fixes hard in his throat, finally stifling the manic giggles shaking his body. it hurt, sides aching and tears leaving streaks of mascara and blood. the two make up artists around him have begun to coo and dab cautiously at his face with tissue and wipes where they can, trying in vain to stop his hair from sticking and staining.
words fail him as he tries to school his breathing. instead he brushes a memory to adam:
cold wind whipping through his hair from miles above the lights of new orleans, despair deep in his gut and pain clouding his vision. in his shaking fists is louis' shirt, suspending him from this great height as he gasps for air through the two new gaping holes in his throat. lestat's fingers are bloody.
from the perspective of his memory, the blood is roaring in his ears, liquid fire. it's a dizzying out of body experience, the rage ignited to a point where he no longer recognises it. distantly he is aware of himself telling louis to admit he would never love him, to free him from endlessly trying. when louis responds, he frees him from his grasp instead.
the memory is not a returning assurance, but it is an answer to the disbelief. perhaps not the answer adam would have liked.]
[ even before adam can fully realize the confession he's made, he feels lestat's disbelief empty him out inside. it fills him like poisoned air, turning his organs hollow, making his ears ring. and then: the laughter.
sharp. cruel. frightened. or is it just adam who is afraid? he doesn't know what's going on; he feels so much, suddenly, flooded with emotions that are so powerful he cannot physically bear them. he slides to the floor with a thump, body sprawling out, limbs gone weak. the out-of-the-way spot he's found in the venue is quiet save for the distant sounds of the tech crew; it's still early in the evening, too early for anyone else to be around.
adam sits, wedged between a crate of sound equipment and a concrete wall, and his eardrums fill with the sound of lestat's laughter. his own mouth curves into a smile but his heart jackrabbits inside his chest, terrified. the connection between them is too strong, despite adam's mortality - perhaps due to the strength of lestat's blood.
and then, just as the laughter fades, just as adam begins to catch his breath, he is pushed into a memory that is not his own.
it's cold. the wind makes his hair cut across his face, against newly-opened wounds, but he does not notice. the only thing he can feel is despair, and rage. rage unlike anything adam has ever experienced. stronger than the day he left home, his father's voice like needles in his brain; stronger than he felt when he smashed a man's face in with the lid of a toilet tank; stronger even than the hate he feels towards himself whenever he remembers what happened in that bathroom.
it's too much. it hurts. everything hurts. a broken man's face stares up at him, defiant despite his injuries, his weakness. and he loves this man: loves him more than anything, more than himself. adam sees this man and he knows it is louis. he knows this is the person who murdered lestat, who sliced his heart open long before his body.
lestat knows what he is doing when he lets go. lestat watches. and, for a moment, it is adam who is falling: down, down, through the cold wind, the clouds, tumbling so dizzyingly fast that he can't breathe. just before his body crashes through the roof of a beautiful townhome in new orleans the memory ends and adam comes back to himself, gasping, hands clawing at his neck and chest.
blood. blood. there's blood everywhere; all he can see is red. he is crying. are his tears made of blood, too? he lifts his hands in front of his face: they are shaking, but they are clean. he is sitting on the cold ground in a music venue waiting for lestat to return. his camera has slipped from his shoulder and lays next to him, abandoned. ]
Lestat, [ he thinks; it is all he can think. ] Lestat. Lestat. [ that name, over and over. and then: ]
[ endless, pathetic apologies as tears drip from his chin onto his hands, as they trickle down his cheeks and jaw, down to the twin marks on his neck, where they pool and sting. marks left by a man who loved so deeply and painfully that he has never recovered, not after decades of longing, of loneliness.
adam is nothing in comparison. he is nothing next to louis. he is just a man, small and desperate, clinging to a god and praying for salvation.
[ when the hysteria begins to settle, lestat is left with that cold memory and a sickening feeling of guilt coiling in his gut. it's not unfamiliar in the slightest, not diminished at all from decades ago, only momentarily forgotten in the haze of drugs and recent distraction in adam. it is almost too familiar recently, thanks to daniel's prodding. lestat desperately does not want to think about it, how all of the evidence continues to point to his own monstrousness. the very same that drove nicki mad, broke louis' body, committed his daughter to a lynching - no matter the years, no matter the blood spilt, he was still his father's son.
his breathing finally hits an even pace when he can finally hear adam over the roaring of blood in his ears. his pulse too, frantic. lungs bellowing panicked breath, the repeated mantra of apologies automatic, like another body function. the guilt twists again; lestat did this, in the throes of selfish hysterics. pushing terrible visions upon the gentle hearted young man, a swift punishment for daring to confess his affections.
over the endless apologies, lestat's voice is a sorrowful bell, cutting through the chaos. ]
I'm sorry. You did not deserve to see that.
[ already he is on his feet, leaving the two young artists bewildered after he exits without so much as a word. it is not far to the backstage area where he can hear the thud of adam's pulse, not long before he finds the crate adam is shivering behind, not quite enough to ease his guilt even as he crouches down to envelop the small man in his arms. there's no words he can convey now, letting his body do the talking instead. he tugs adam close, uncaring of any protest. just seats himself on the concrete there, long legs unfolding on either side of the mortal, senses honed into the patter of the other's heartbeat and the comforting scent of his hair as he buries his nose into dark strands. his expression wobbles dangerously, horribly miserable and horribly sorrowful. ]
[ the toll of lestat's voice is deep and heavy inside the panicked frenzy of adam's mind, carving through his half-formed thoughts and too-fast heartbeat. I'm sorry lestat says but adam does not understand, does not know why lestat is apologizing.
he is missing crucial context surrounding the memory he has borne witness to, but in this moment he cannot think of anything aside from the absolute devastation he just felt. lestat's emotions linger within him like a ghost, like the phantom pain of a limb lost long ago. the anger. the sadness. the grief.
love. the truest, deepest, most painful love.
suddenly there are arms wrapping around him, a face pressing into his hair, the unmistakeable scent of lestat filling his nostrils. he did not hear the other man's footsteps as he approached. adam gives no resistance, his body limp and lifeless as he's pulled into the embrace. his eyes are wide, unblinking, tears still cascading down his cheeks; he looks shellshocked, as though he's witnessed some terrible crime.
maybe he has. ]
Lestat...?
[ he comes back to himself just enough to reach shaking hands up along the blond's shoulderblades, his grasp weak where his fingers tangle in the fabric of lestat's shirt. ]
Why --
[ he does not know what he is trying to say. why did you show me that? why did you make me feel these horrible feelings? why did i tell you?
none of those. he doesn't want to say any of those things. instead, in a whisper breathed against blood-damp strands of hair, he says: ]
Why didn't he tell you?
[ that he didn't love him. that he wanted lestat to leave him alone. why? why would that man do such a thing to a creature so painfully, desperately in love with him?
adam knows, of course; he saw it, through lestat's eyes, in the bruised and bloodied face of a man he has never met. louis loved lestat. loved and hated him and could not confess even when it meant his life was forfeit.
adam is not sorry for what he has said. he is sorry that lestat was made to feel such awful things, deeper and more terrible than any human could possibly feel; the pain of years upon years upon years of longing, waiting, wanting, hoping. ]
[ shuddering breath after shuddering breath, the emotion rising quickly with adam in his arms now. lestat clings to him, rocking them both in tiny movements in a feeble attempt to soothe. this was not adam's burden to bear, unfair to press this upon him without the weight of context, just pure misery and a deep loneliness. unfair to louis and adam like.
into adam's hair, he shakes his head minutely. presses a kiss there, hopefully more firm and grounding than he feels. ]
Non, non, chéri, this is not for you to bear. I'm sorry for pushing this on you. It was too much, far too much.
[ he draws adam back, cups his face in each large palm. smoothing thumbs over tear tracks, his attempts to school his expression into something less pained is futile. his mouth wobbles as he forces a weak smile, eyes shining in the low light.]
He was in pain, my love. [ referring to both louis and adam in the same breath. sacrilege.]
I.. I could not take it from him. I was not kind nor understanding when I should have been.
[ his brow furrows. time has given him the opportunity to mull over his mistakes over and over, though he still cannot see the full picture. his eyes refocus in on adam, sorrowful at the man's expression, the mess of him. ]
Like I should have been with you, too. Sweet boy.
[ holding his face in his hands still, he leans in to press a kiss to adam's forehead, brow wobbling.]
these sadstat icons are gonna be the end of me T______T <3
[ lestat's voice sounds at once very close and very far away; it feels to adam as if his body is floating somewhere in a deep ocean, peering up at the light that filters through the waves. he can feel lestat against him, his arms and hands and lips, his long lean legs pressed up against either side of Adam's body, but he also feels nothing. nothing but the wind and the emptiness.
lestat takes adam's face in his hands and oh, oh, he looks so sad. adam's heart leaps towards him but when he tries to speak his mouth doesn't move right, his throat closes up. is this what he looked like in that memory? adam did not see his face, except as it was reflected in louis' eyes, with anger and terror and desperation. a warped image of the beautiful man kneeling before him now, filled with sorrow and trying desperately to apologize for something he did not intend to do.
adam lifts one of his hands, the shaking fingers brushing strands of hair away from lestat's face. his thumb traces the folds of skin creasin the other man's expression, above his eyebrows and along his cheekbones, down to his wobbling, tragedy-laden mouth. he looks like a man broken and it makes adam ache, more painful than even the things he felt in that memory.
is this what it means to love a vampire? endless raging emotions? pain, suffering, lust, desire, and above all else - love, the kind of love that destroys you from the inside out? adam thought he had experienced the lowest low of his life, thought he would live with that until his body finally gave up on him -- but now he's felt something ten thousand times more terrible. he's felt it, and he's staring at the man who felt it first: lestat. the vampire. the star. the man that adam, somehow, has fallen in love with.
he cannot find the strength to speak. his shaky, trembling fingers find lestat's face, cupping his cheeks in a mirror of how he himself is being held. he stares at him, at the tragic blue of his eyes, two hundred years of emotions deeper than any ocean.
[ the softness of adam's touch makes his expression crumble, tears spilling over suddenly. the mirrored sorrow he can feel when touching his mind, can see in each quiver of the man's body, feel it against him. it's cathartic and heavy all at once, watching another process emotions that he has not let himself fully, not yet. not moment to moment, instead often overwhelmed by the seeming pile of tragedy accumulated by the years of repression. in moments like those, digging a hole in the earth to sleep for years at a time was his coping mechanism of choice, letting time wash away his overwhelming despair. distantly he wonders if adam would watch over his slumbering grave, if he chose to waste their years together in that manner.
but those big seawater eyes stare at him, pinning him with the grieving love he can see reflected there and he knows that he would never be able to. not with just how vulnerable adam's heart was, so similar to his own at that age. wanting desperately for kindred spirits to understand, to see him and adore him when so many others had been unable. lestat's lip begins to tremble dangerously at the thought, fresh tears brimming. adam cups his face like he is precious, kisses him as if he was not an evil thing born from trauma, committing the same violence over and over.
a sob threatens to burst from his throat but he swallows it back down, wanting to stay close, share in this fragile moment between them. adam's warmth is a balm to his frayed nerves and his hands seek it out, slipping from his cheeks to cup the sides of his neck, cradle the back of his head. reassuring himself that adam is still whole, still alive. not slipping into madness, not yet, still willing to give comfort freely.
breathless, the kiss is broken but he stays close. presses their foreheads together, noses brushing.]
I'm - I'm sorry. Your confession, it - [ a deep shaky breath, voice cracking.] - I was not prepared for it. How it made me feel.
I-I tried to give context, but I - [ a pause. fingers card through the fine hair at adam's nape, soothing himself with the motion. he squeezes his eyes shut, pained. ] - it was too much.
I wish you did not see that.
UWAAAA T____T I love themmmmmmm these poor lil guysss wehhhhh!!!
[ bit by bit, adam finds himself back in the present, here in this moment with lestat. the things he's seen and the emotions he's felt remain but they seem to slough from him, the way an insect molts, leaving behind only an impression of what it once was.
lestat's face is so sad. so, so sad. adam wipes at crimson tears fruitfully, trying to stop them but only managing to coat his own hands in blood. lestat is so small like this - physically bigger still, yes, but small in every other way, in soul and spirit both. the way he stays so close even after the kiss tells adam that he does not want to part and so the mortal keeps him there, keeps them connected even as the tears continue, his own still tracking down his cheeks, clear salt water sadness.
Your confession lestat says and adam remembers, finally, what brought this on; a shudder runs through him, guilt and embarrassment alike, his fingers finding the strength to squeeze lestat's face for just a moment. it's his turn to look sorrowful, now, not with anyone's regret but his own. it writes itself across every part of his body, shoulders slumping, eyes flickering downwards. ]
I didn't mean to say it, [ he whispers, voice cracking. ] I meant it, but I didn't -- it wasn't supposed to be like that --
[ so sudden. without warning. his heart pinned to a board, cut open while still beating, its entire contents displayed just for lestat to witness. ]
I'm sorry, [ he says again, weakly. his body is shaking visibly now, but he tries to keep it together, even while they're both falling apart. ]
It's okay if you don't -- if you want me to leave, or --
[ he's babbling now, trying to say things his heart does not want. his eyes move too quickly, panicked, his heartbeat too fast. he has caused lestat pain, he has made lestat cry. he should leave. he should leave, before -- ]
[ even now, even after he had been struck with all of lestat's guilt and emotion, adam still shrinks as if he was to blame. apologising as if it was his burst of inappropriate emotion, not lestat's. a wave of fierce affection rolls over him, a possessiveness that has him tightening his grip, blinking rapidly in an attempt to drive away his tears.]
Do not apologize for such things. [ a furious whisper, his eyes a vivid blue amongst the watery red. ] Not for showing me your heart. Not if you were sincere.
[ the tilt of his head inwards, a pressed kiss to the corner of adam's mouth. tender, despite the trembling. trying to soothe adam, keep him enveloped and within reach.]
I - want you with me. Stay with me, Adam. Don't leave. [ lestat attempts a wobbly smile, nudges his nose with his own.
he does not want to think about what substances he'd need to down to cope if adam left right now, doesn't think he'd be able to handle it. all he wanted was to curl up in the comfort of the younger man now and forget all of the pain he had caused. perhaps even find some joy in the fleeting declaration of love, even if it was temporary.]
[ the sudden ferocity of lestat's voice and expression are enough to break adam out of his spiralling panic. the kiss pressed to his mouth is a familiar one; the same that lestat once gave him mentally, so well-remembered that it might as well have been real. the thought pushes a smile onto adam's face and he laughs weakly, realizing how pathetic they both must look. if anyone found them, what on earth would they think? two drug-addled problem children in adult bodies, crying over things no mortal could ever hope to understand.
and then, lestat's own confession: stay with me. don't leave.
how could adam even think of saying no? ]
I'll stay, [ he whispers, nodding; small at first, then stronger. he wipes at lestat's cheeks and jaw, trying to rid him of the blood, but he only manages to smear it further. it suits him, somehow, all the red; dark and tragic and then, amidst all that dark tragedy, those two glass orbs of light. reflecting the blues and greens and golds of the world.
his arms wind around lestat's waist and pull him closer, holding him tight. he rests his face in the crook of the other's neck, breathing in the scent of him and exhaling a long, shaky breath that carries with it the remainder of the memory.
he won't ever be able to forget it. lestat did not want to show him but, later, adam will realize he is grateful: grateful to have seen something so important, so awful, so life-changing. a part of lestat's history that no one else may ever know. the depth of emotion he is capable of, that he runs from. ]
I meant it, [ adam mumbles now, hidden in the waves of lestat's hair. ] I really... I think I'm in love with you.
[ lestat's heart skips at those words and his breath hitches, holding. it's an effort to exhale, a considerable feat of will to try to relax into it, into the warm embrace holding him securely. safe. this gentle boy confessing so easily whilst wrapped around him, even with his bloody tears on his hands, his own cheeks not yet dry.
a small wounded sound from the back of lestat's throat. he presses his face into the warm softness of dark hair, inhales the scent of adam into his body. lets it convince the animal of his body to be vulnerable in this moment, to only focus on the fragile fluttering in his chest so much like a moth to heat and light. hopeful that this time the bulb will not scorch him even as it dizzies him, that he can remain here for longer.]
I -
[ a start, hesitation stubbornly closing his throat even as he struggles to focus only on the physical sensations against him, around him. picturing adam with affection blooming in his eyes from the side of the stage, ignoring the ghosts of claudia and magnus haunting him from the crowd, hungry spectres. gabrielle's fingers in a wound, delighting in his confused eagerness for her attention. just adam, sprawled in the pile of blankets, cigarette lazy in his fingers, half asleep and radiating comfort. hands in his hair, soothing him through his whimpering. offering his throat, his body, his life without question.]
You should be with other mortals, Adam. I am selfish, keeping you to myself, but I - [ his hands clutch at the expanse of adam's back, feeling the toned muscle there, the thud of his heart through his skin.]
I want you very badly. To love me like this, to stay mine. [ a beat, then murmured low against his hair, almost shy.]
[ the physicality of lestat's body is good, grounding, after the mental anguish adam just experienced. they're both crying but this feels right, somehow - much like that night at the club, sitting on the concrete of the parking lot, wrapped around one another inextricably. perhaps this is how it must be: filled with tears and trauma, overwhelmed by emotions neither of them wants to process. lestat has many, many years on him but adam knows his own history is similarly turbulent, a battlefield covered in anger and sorrow.
this, he thinks, is why they have found one another. what other reason could there be to press two pathetic misfits up against one another? why else is adam still alive, when lestat so easily could have drained him and left his body to rot like so many others?
adam holds lestat tight against him, stronger now that he's come back to himself. he rocks them back and forth, the same way lestat did to him just moment ago, slow movements meant to soothe and calm. he doesn't know what he's doing but it doesn't matter; all that matters is that he has lestat here with him, tucked close, their breaths slowly falling into sync.
You should be with other mortals, Adam.
the sentiment makes laughter rise in his chest, unbidden - much less hysterical than lestat but similarly sudden. the thought itself strikes him as ridiculous, but he can guess as to why lestat says it. being caught in the claws of an immortal creature is surely more painful a life to live than one spent idling the mundane days away with others like yourself.
he wants to speak but lestat continues, and when he murmurs those words, speaks them into existence, adam can feel his entire body shake beneath the weight of them.
love. lestat's love. no mortal could ever compare. adam knows, now, what this means, how powerful and all-consuming that love is; he felt it, in the memory he was shown. felt how much lestat loved louis, how much it hurt him to continually seek out reciprocation. and he knows, now, how vulnerable lestat must feel confessing this same love to adam, carving open his own chest to reveal the beating heart inside, bruised and bloody, hoping and wishing that adam will treat it more gently than those who came before.
a strangled noise sounds in his throat. his fingers clutch at lestat, trying to pull him impossibly close. when he speaks his voice sounds wretched, as though he's holding all of his love in his throat and trying desperately to push it out into the air, into lestat's ears, his head, his heart. ]
Yours.
[ he pulls back, expression twisted into one of fierce determination; his skin is coated in blood and tears, but he pays no attention to it. his eyes flash, his lips tremble, as he continues: ]
[ there is no way that lestat could have known that taunting the voyeuristic photographer that one evening could have lead to this. that the brief humiliation he wished to enact for his own gratification could wind up with being held by someone now so dear to him, so many nights later. this brave man, already so shattered by circumstance, willing to subject himself to so much more blood just for his sake.
so many pieces of lestat's heart would belong to others forever. louis a constant, timeless love, ebbing and flowing with the seasons. armand in a painful mirror of himself, a terrible reflection of all his worst traits. gabrielle, with all the base longing of a child wishing for a parent's kind hand. the meagre time he has spent with adam seems frivolous in contrast, but potent in the overwhelming joy. a simpler fragment of love that he had only seen glimpses of, what he had wished for yet did not think he deserved.
armand's warnings of entangling with mortals were very real, he knew this. their lifespan would be over in a flash, leaving him only with memories and an overwhelming grief. but he needed this, needed the sweetness that came with adam's pulse, his boyish enthusiasm and most of all - unflinching gaze into the heart of his monstrousness.
yes, he was horribly in love with this mortal man. the unwavering resolve shining in the brunette's expression made lestat's heart surge, comforted in his moment of vulnerability. how does he, with all of his decades of life and inhuman strength feel so shielded by such declarations? by being held and rocked, comforted by far weaker arms than his.
strands of hair stick to his cheeks as he nods solemnly at first, then with a wobbly smile. it's hard not to burst back into tears but he tries, takes adam's jaw so carefully into his palm and strokes his thumb over that brave, trembling mouth. ]
--For as long as you wish to stay, I will take you gladly. [ a sniff, eyes watering again. ] Do not think that you have to. Your time is precious, I will not hold it against you if you wish to live apart.
But you will be handsome to me, always. [ oop, there go the tears spilling down his cheeks. it's very hard not to think about how beautiful the crow's feet would be at the corners of adam's eyes as he ages, the greys coming through to streak the darks of his hair. maybe he'd finally let stubble dust his jaw and upper lips, but that youthful spark in his eyes would never really fade.
lestat's own eyes crinkle at the corners as he thumbs across the crease in adam's brow to his temple, fond. ]
And if you still love me at the end of your life, you will call me to your bedside for me to witness. I would not wish for you to slip into the darkness alone.
[ it's such a strange thing, to be the one offering comfort. a mortal, tending to the wound of a god. yet adam is coming to understand that, beneath his glamour, beneath his terrible beauty, lestat is simply a man. a man cursed with not only this vampiric gift but also the ability to feel things more deeply than any human ever could, and a young man's heart to feel them with. adam knows now that lestat is just as broken a creature as himself; he knows, too, that he cannot simply allow that creature to suffer.
he knows there are others. there may be others still to come. but right now, here in this moment, it is just the two of them, and that is enough.
he smiles back at that wobbly thing on lestat's face, hope lighting up his eyes as he listens to the blond's declaration. a soft scoff leaves him, affectionate, at the mention of him ever wanting to spend his time away from lestat. perhaps that will happen, in time - but right now, he cannot imagine it.
the mention of his aging, his inevitable passing into the dark, makes his eyebrows knit together slightly - but lestat is smiling at him still, those crimson tears tracking down his cheeks in small rivulets, and he looks so tragically charming that adam cannot help but lean in to kiss him, to kiss his lips and his face and the corners of his eyes. a thousand tiny reassurances: I am here. ]
I don't wanna think about that.
[ something any mortal would say, certainly, when the love of their life confronts them with the concept of death. but it isn't his death that adam is worried about; no, he confronted that fear long ago now, back in that awful, dirty room, with a chain around his ankle. ]
You're stuck with me now.
[ he grins, and a laugh bubbles up in his chest, a release of the tension they've been carrying for so long. ]
[ adam's lestat. those words cause him to choke out weak laughter too, ducking his head as his cheeks flush pink. already he feels lighter, less caught in the riptide of his misery. ]
Yours? [ not so much an inquiry as it is an affirmation, tone lilting up with his smile.
butterflies in his chest and he pulls adam's face towards his, tilting his head to kiss that grin sweetly. they're both a mess once again, the same as they were outside the nightclub after another confession. but this time, it's not quite as far to the privacy of his trailer, nor was the blood of a fresh kill thundering through him to spike his desire. right now, all lestat wants to do is keep kissing those bright smiles from this man, to bask in the safety of his arms.]
You are mine. Mon amour.
[ a kiss pressed to the dimple of adam's chin, the underside of his jaw. strong hands grasp around the tops of adam's thighs to lift him easily, tugging him fully into his lap. seemingly just so lestat can nuzzle into his neck, trying to press himself as close as possible.]
I have cancelled tonight's show. I do not plan to leave your side for the rest of the night, by the way.
It is you who is stuck with me, it seems.
[muffled against the juncture of neck and shoulder. he's very comfortable, inhaling tobacco and the scent of adam's skin.]
[ lestat's soft little laugh, the way he blushes, the duck of his head - it's too sweet, and it makes adam's chest flutter, a thousand of his own butterflies taking wing. he smiles into the kiss, once again not caring about the blood or the tears, thinking only of the man in his arms and the depth of his feelings for that man. here in the dark of the venue, in this half-hidden spot out of the way, it is quiet. it is peaceful. no staff will come to interrupt them; no cruel twist of fate will find them.
mon amour lestat says, and adam realizes something: all the names lestat calls him, all the ones adam can remember, always begin with that single word. my. my little one. my darling. my love. always a possessive. perhaps lestat never meant them quite that way; perhaps it's simply a strange feature of his mother tongue - whatever the case, adam does not care. he belongs to lestat, and lestat to him.
it's his turn to laugh a little as the vampire tugs him in close, those strong arms lifting him easily. his limbs settle around the larger man and he grins at the way lestat tries to burrow his way as deep as possible inside of adam, one hand wrapping around his waist and the other moving to card fingers through his hair. it's quickly becoming a habit, a way that adam can comfort lestat without being overbearing.
still, the news of the cancellation takes him by surprise, and he goes still for a moment as he processes it. ]
Are you sure?
[ he does not sound judgmental, simply curious. his words are soft in lestat's ear now. ]
I didn't mean to... y'know.
[ trigger your trauma so badly that you need to take a night off, is what he's trying to say. ]
[ a disapproving sound at adam's implied apology. lestat huffs against his skin, noses there in reassurance.]
Do not think of apologising for expressing yourself, whether you intended to or not. Your capacity for feeling so strongly is admirable, a strength so often hidden by many.
[ a puff of amusement, his little smile likely felt where he presses his mouth to the warmth of adam's neck.]
It is what I deserve for peering into your mind so often, no?
[ the noise of disapproval makes worry cloud adam's mind for a moment, but it's quickly swept away when lestat speaks. the praise fills him instead with a warm sense of comfort and he snuggles in closer, nosing at the skin near lestat's temple, inhaling the scent of him. the smell of makeup and hairspray is prominent, more than usual, and adam has to remind himself that it's okay, that cancelling one show isn't going to be the end of the world.
he can feel that smile, too, and that helps. what lestat says next makes him chuckle, but it also teases a thought out of adam, one that's been in the back of his head for a while now: ]
What's it like, when you do that? Can you, like... hear everything I'm thinking? Or do you see stuff? Or... how does it work?
[ the fact that lestat has been able to communicate with him - to hear him - seems wild in and of itself. adam can't even imagine what he's truly capable of. ]
[ even whilst he is not actively skimming adam's mind, the closeness between them acts almost as a proxy; lestat's conscious awareness of adam's cyclical breathing, the beating of his heart just as clear a communication as his words. the very subtle tension in his muscles as his moods change, felt easily with him wrapped around the vampire like this. so the happy snuggle is an echoing balm to him, one that encourages lestat to sigh in contentment, tipping his head back to press reassuring kisses to the corner of adam's jaw. delightful boy. ]
Mm, it is as if I am surrounded by many windows, all with a glimpse into one's unique theatrical monologue. If I choose to get closer to one and peer through, often I can hear their lines, watch the performance. Even memories, when played out, are a subjective truth. Warped by perception in their reenactment. All of us actors, telling ourselves stories of our thoughts and feelings of the world around us.
[ a pause, a low hum against adam's skin. ]
It is the body's automatic functions that add context, that are an objective truth no matter the lies the mind tells. I could witness the Adam in your mind give a very compelling performance on how unafraid he is - you may even believe it. But until I hear your pulse slow and scent the adrenaline fading, it is not truly what you are feeling.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I think you may need more reminders. There are many more places on your body I wish to drink from, that I will leave to heal slowly, to bruise.
I look forward to your whimpers when I show my adoring fans my teeth marks in your thighs, your chest.
[ an image now, a suggestion pushed:
lestat pressed against adam's back, stretching him out against him with a single hand on his neck, the other hand rucking up adam's shirt to reveal bite marks to a crowd. teeth prints around a flushed and abused nipple, on the slender dip of his waist, above the jut of his hip bone. lestat's voice a dark undercurrent in his ear, whispering praise mixed with filth.]
no subject
it's so strong that it forces adam to sit, teeth digging into his lower lip, breath coming quicker now. ]
Tonight?
[ there's a hurriedness to his thoughts now, clearly affected by the idea. it doesn't make sense - lestat would have to drain him multiple times to leave so many marks, and that would leave adam in recovery for days - but the thought alone is overpowering enough to make the human shed all reason. ]
Will you really drink from me tonight? On stage?
no subject
Perhaps not to that extent. But since you are so eager to be my victim in front of your parents, oui.
Try not to get too obviously hard on stage, hm?
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his blood thrums in his veins. can lestat hear that, too? adam's hunger, his desire? ]
I want you to show them the kind of person I really am. Show them I'm the degenerate they always said I was.
[ anger sizzles through his words, but stronger than that is his need to be taken by lestat in any way the vampire sees fit. ]
no subject
My degenerate, a cherished boy. My desecration of your body will be that of mutual worship, an offering accepted on my sacred ground. A joyful corruption in spite of their horror.
nooo not that icon omg T_T <3
he feels free. freer than he ever has. strange, that it's happened as a result of chaining himself to this beautiful, wicked man. a flurry of emotions stirs in his chest as he listens to lestat, more powerful than a hurricane. anger. hunger. lust. pride. desperation. terror. wonder.
he thinks it without thinking it, says it without meaning to say it; in his head, on his lips, quiet and deadly and true -- ]
I love you, Lestat.
oughhh adam... 🥺🥺
perhaps it is gabrielle's influence that makes him suddenly burst into hysterical laughter there in the make up chair. maybe it was nicolas, or louis. affection hard won, kind words even harder. it's difficult to believe that he had earned adam's love, let alone a declaration of such.
it's not as if he placed the words above all others. plenty of confessions had been made to him by antoinette and armand, clawing desperate things much akin to the fevour of his fans. it was the single mindedness of his entanglement with adam that made those words cut deeper, the vulnerability of seeing and being seen in return without pretense. the mess of guts and purpling flesh of his heart put on the table, far too much for most young mortals to stomach without flinching.
the discomfort of knowing that this is confirmation of adam reaching through the gore of him anyway and choosing to hold him tenderly. staining his hands bloody in the process.
all of this fixes hard in his throat, finally stifling the manic giggles shaking his body. it hurt, sides aching and tears leaving streaks of mascara and blood. the two make up artists around him have begun to coo and dab cautiously at his face with tissue and wipes where they can, trying in vain to stop his hair from sticking and staining.
words fail him as he tries to school his breathing. instead he brushes a memory to adam:
cold wind whipping through his hair from miles above the lights of new orleans, despair deep in his gut and pain clouding his vision. in his shaking fists is louis' shirt, suspending him from this great height as he gasps for air through the two new gaping holes in his throat. lestat's fingers are bloody.
from the perspective of his memory, the blood is roaring in his ears, liquid fire. it's a dizzying out of body experience, the rage ignited to a point where he no longer recognises it. distantly he is aware of himself telling louis to admit he would never love him, to free him from endlessly trying. when louis responds, he frees him from his grasp instead.
the memory is not a returning assurance, but it is an answer to the disbelief. perhaps not the answer adam would have liked.]
have a novel in return AUGH <333
sharp. cruel. frightened. or is it just adam who is afraid? he doesn't know what's going on; he feels so much, suddenly, flooded with emotions that are so powerful he cannot physically bear them. he slides to the floor with a thump, body sprawling out, limbs gone weak. the out-of-the-way spot he's found in the venue is quiet save for the distant sounds of the tech crew; it's still early in the evening, too early for anyone else to be around.
adam sits, wedged between a crate of sound equipment and a concrete wall, and his eardrums fill with the sound of lestat's laughter. his own mouth curves into a smile but his heart jackrabbits inside his chest, terrified. the connection between them is too strong, despite adam's mortality - perhaps due to the strength of lestat's blood.
and then, just as the laughter fades, just as adam begins to catch his breath, he is pushed into a memory that is not his own.
it's cold. the wind makes his hair cut across his face, against newly-opened wounds, but he does not notice. the only thing he can feel is despair, and rage. rage unlike anything adam has ever experienced. stronger than the day he left home, his father's voice like needles in his brain; stronger than he felt when he smashed a man's face in with the lid of a toilet tank; stronger even than the hate he feels towards himself whenever he remembers what happened in that bathroom.
it's too much. it hurts. everything hurts. a broken man's face stares up at him, defiant despite his injuries, his weakness. and he loves this man: loves him more than anything, more than himself. adam sees this man and he knows it is louis. he knows this is the person who murdered lestat, who sliced his heart open long before his body.
lestat knows what he is doing when he lets go. lestat watches. and, for a moment, it is adam who is falling: down, down, through the cold wind, the clouds, tumbling so dizzyingly fast that he can't breathe. just before his body crashes through the roof of a beautiful townhome in new orleans the memory ends and adam comes back to himself, gasping, hands clawing at his neck and chest.
blood. blood. there's blood everywhere; all he can see is red. he is crying. are his tears made of blood, too? he lifts his hands in front of his face: they are shaking, but they are clean. he is sitting on the cold ground in a music venue waiting for lestat to return. his camera has slipped from his shoulder and lays next to him, abandoned. ]
Lestat, [ he thinks; it is all he can think. ] Lestat. Lestat. [ that name, over and over. and then: ]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorryI'msorryI'msorry --
[ endless, pathetic apologies as tears drip from his chin onto his hands, as they trickle down his cheeks and jaw, down to the twin marks on his neck, where they pool and sting. marks left by a man who loved so deeply and painfully that he has never recovered, not after decades of longing, of loneliness.
adam is nothing in comparison. he is nothing next to louis. he is just a man, small and desperate, clinging to a god and praying for salvation.
I'm sorry. ]
no subject
his breathing finally hits an even pace when he can finally hear adam over the roaring of blood in his ears. his pulse too, frantic. lungs bellowing panicked breath, the repeated mantra of apologies automatic, like another body function. the guilt twists again; lestat did this, in the throes of selfish hysterics. pushing terrible visions upon the gentle hearted young man, a swift punishment for daring to confess his affections.
over the endless apologies, lestat's voice is a sorrowful bell, cutting through the chaos. ]
I'm sorry. You did not deserve to see that.
[ already he is on his feet, leaving the two young artists bewildered after he exits without so much as a word. it is not far to the backstage area where he can hear the thud of adam's pulse, not long before he finds the crate adam is shivering behind, not quite enough to ease his guilt even as he crouches down to envelop the small man in his arms. there's no words he can convey now, letting his body do the talking instead. he tugs adam close, uncaring of any protest. just seats himself on the concrete there, long legs unfolding on either side of the mortal, senses honed into the patter of the other's heartbeat and the comforting scent of his hair as he buries his nose into dark strands. his expression wobbles dangerously, horribly miserable and horribly sorrowful. ]
no subject
he is missing crucial context surrounding the memory he has borne witness to, but in this moment he cannot think of anything aside from the absolute devastation he just felt. lestat's emotions linger within him like a ghost, like the phantom pain of a limb lost long ago. the anger. the sadness. the grief.
love. the truest, deepest, most painful love.
suddenly there are arms wrapping around him, a face pressing into his hair, the unmistakeable scent of lestat filling his nostrils. he did not hear the other man's footsteps as he approached. adam gives no resistance, his body limp and lifeless as he's pulled into the embrace. his eyes are wide, unblinking, tears still cascading down his cheeks; he looks shellshocked, as though he's witnessed some terrible crime.
maybe he has. ]
Lestat...?
[ he comes back to himself just enough to reach shaking hands up along the blond's shoulderblades, his grasp weak where his fingers tangle in the fabric of lestat's shirt. ]
Why --
[ he does not know what he is trying to say. why did you show me that? why did you make me feel these horrible feelings? why did i tell you?
none of those. he doesn't want to say any of those things. instead, in a whisper breathed against blood-damp strands of hair, he says: ]
Why didn't he tell you?
[ that he didn't love him. that he wanted lestat to leave him alone. why? why would that man do such a thing to a creature so painfully, desperately in love with him?
adam knows, of course; he saw it, through lestat's eyes, in the bruised and bloodied face of a man he has never met. louis loved lestat. loved and hated him and could not confess even when it meant his life was forfeit.
adam is not sorry for what he has said. he is sorry that lestat was made to feel such awful things, deeper and more terrible than any human could possibly feel; the pain of years upon years upon years of longing, waiting, wanting, hoping. ]
I'm sorry, [ he whispers, with all his heart. ]
no subject
into adam's hair, he shakes his head minutely. presses a kiss there, hopefully more firm and grounding than he feels. ]
Non, non, chéri, this is not for you to bear. I'm sorry for pushing this on you. It was too much, far too much.
[ he draws adam back, cups his face in each large palm. smoothing thumbs over tear tracks, his attempts to school his expression into something less pained is futile. his mouth wobbles as he forces a weak smile, eyes shining in the low light.]
He was in pain, my love. [ referring to both louis and adam in the same breath. sacrilege.]
I.. I could not take it from him. I was not kind nor understanding when I should have been.
[ his brow furrows. time has given him the opportunity to mull over his mistakes over and over, though he still cannot see the full picture. his eyes refocus in on adam, sorrowful at the man's expression, the mess of him. ]
Like I should have been with you, too. Sweet boy.
[ holding his face in his hands still, he leans in to press a kiss to adam's forehead, brow wobbling.]
these sadstat icons are gonna be the end of me T______T <3
lestat takes adam's face in his hands and oh, oh, he looks so sad. adam's heart leaps towards him but when he tries to speak his mouth doesn't move right, his throat closes up. is this what he looked like in that memory? adam did not see his face, except as it was reflected in louis' eyes, with anger and terror and desperation. a warped image of the beautiful man kneeling before him now, filled with sorrow and trying desperately to apologize for something he did not intend to do.
adam lifts one of his hands, the shaking fingers brushing strands of hair away from lestat's face. his thumb traces the folds of skin creasin the other man's expression, above his eyebrows and along his cheekbones, down to his wobbling, tragedy-laden mouth. he looks like a man broken and it makes adam ache, more painful than even the things he felt in that memory.
is this what it means to love a vampire? endless raging emotions? pain, suffering, lust, desire, and above all else - love, the kind of love that destroys you from the inside out? adam thought he had experienced the lowest low of his life, thought he would live with that until his body finally gave up on him -- but now he's felt something ten thousand times more terrible. he's felt it, and he's staring at the man who felt it first: lestat. the vampire. the star. the man that adam, somehow, has fallen in love with.
he cannot find the strength to speak. his shaky, trembling fingers find lestat's face, cupping his cheeks in a mirror of how he himself is being held. he stares at him, at the tragic blue of his eyes, two hundred years of emotions deeper than any ocean.
he has no words, and so he kisses him. ]
ough they're both wet soggy boys ;wwww;
but those big seawater eyes stare at him, pinning him with the grieving love he can see reflected there and he knows that he would never be able to. not with just how vulnerable adam's heart was, so similar to his own at that age. wanting desperately for kindred spirits to understand, to see him and adore him when so many others had been unable. lestat's lip begins to tremble dangerously at the thought, fresh tears brimming. adam cups his face like he is precious, kisses him as if he was not an evil thing born from trauma, committing the same violence over and over.
a sob threatens to burst from his throat but he swallows it back down, wanting to stay close, share in this fragile moment between them. adam's warmth is a balm to his frayed nerves and his hands seek it out, slipping from his cheeks to cup the sides of his neck, cradle the back of his head. reassuring himself that adam is still whole, still alive. not slipping into madness, not yet, still willing to give comfort freely.
breathless, the kiss is broken but he stays close. presses their foreheads together, noses brushing.]
I'm - I'm sorry. Your confession, it - [ a deep shaky breath, voice cracking.] - I was not prepared for it. How it made me feel.
I-I tried to give context, but I - [ a pause. fingers card through the fine hair at adam's nape, soothing himself with the motion. he squeezes his eyes shut, pained. ] - it was too much.
I wish you did not see that.
UWAAAA T____T I love themmmmmmm these poor lil guysss wehhhhh!!!
lestat's face is so sad. so, so sad. adam wipes at crimson tears fruitfully, trying to stop them but only managing to coat his own hands in blood. lestat is so small like this - physically bigger still, yes, but small in every other way, in soul and spirit both. the way he stays so close even after the kiss tells adam that he does not want to part and so the mortal keeps him there, keeps them connected even as the tears continue, his own still tracking down his cheeks, clear salt water sadness.
Your confession lestat says and adam remembers, finally, what brought this on; a shudder runs through him, guilt and embarrassment alike, his fingers finding the strength to squeeze lestat's face for just a moment. it's his turn to look sorrowful, now, not with anyone's regret but his own. it writes itself across every part of his body, shoulders slumping, eyes flickering downwards. ]
I didn't mean to say it, [ he whispers, voice cracking. ] I meant it, but I didn't -- it wasn't supposed to be like that --
[ so sudden. without warning. his heart pinned to a board, cut open while still beating, its entire contents displayed just for lestat to witness. ]
I'm sorry, [ he says again, weakly. his body is shaking visibly now, but he tries to keep it together, even while they're both falling apart. ]
It's okay if you don't -- if you want me to leave, or --
[ he's babbling now, trying to say things his heart does not want. his eyes move too quickly, panicked, his heartbeat too fast. he has caused lestat pain, he has made lestat cry. he should leave. he should leave, before -- ]
bundling them both up in a shared blanket...
Do not apologize for such things. [ a furious whisper, his eyes a vivid blue amongst the watery red. ] Not for showing me your heart. Not if you were sincere.
[ the tilt of his head inwards, a pressed kiss to the corner of adam's mouth. tender, despite the trembling. trying to soothe adam, keep him enveloped and within reach.]
I - want you with me. Stay with me, Adam. Don't leave. [ lestat attempts a wobbly smile, nudges his nose with his own.
he does not want to think about what substances he'd need to down to cope if adam left right now, doesn't think he'd be able to handle it. all he wanted was to curl up in the comfort of the younger man now and forget all of the pain he had caused. perhaps even find some joy in the fleeting declaration of love, even if it was temporary.]
ruffles their hair with a big fluffy towel!!
and then, lestat's own confession: stay with me. don't leave.
how could adam even think of saying no? ]
I'll stay, [ he whispers, nodding; small at first, then stronger. he wipes at lestat's cheeks and jaw, trying to rid him of the blood, but he only manages to smear it further. it suits him, somehow, all the red; dark and tragic and then, amidst all that dark tragedy, those two glass orbs of light. reflecting the blues and greens and golds of the world.
his arms wind around lestat's waist and pull him closer, holding him tight. he rests his face in the crook of the other's neck, breathing in the scent of him and exhaling a long, shaky breath that carries with it the remainder of the memory.
he won't ever be able to forget it. lestat did not want to show him but, later, adam will realize he is grateful: grateful to have seen something so important, so awful, so life-changing. a part of lestat's history that no one else may ever know. the depth of emotion he is capable of, that he runs from. ]
I meant it, [ adam mumbles now, hidden in the waves of lestat's hair. ] I really... I think I'm in love with you.
tw gabrielle....
a small wounded sound from the back of lestat's throat. he presses his face into the warm softness of dark hair, inhales the scent of adam into his body. lets it convince the animal of his body to be vulnerable in this moment, to only focus on the fragile fluttering in his chest so much like a moth to heat and light. hopeful that this time the bulb will not scorch him even as it dizzies him, that he can remain here for longer.]
I -
[ a start, hesitation stubbornly closing his throat even as he struggles to focus only on the physical sensations against him, around him. picturing adam with affection blooming in his eyes from the side of the stage, ignoring the ghosts of claudia and magnus haunting him from the crowd, hungry spectres. gabrielle's fingers in a wound, delighting in his confused eagerness for her attention. just adam, sprawled in the pile of blankets, cigarette lazy in his fingers, half asleep and radiating comfort. hands in his hair, soothing him through his whimpering. offering his throat, his body, his life without question.]
You should be with other mortals, Adam. I am selfish, keeping you to myself, but I - [ his hands clutch at the expanse of adam's back, feeling the toned muscle there, the thud of his heart through his skin.]
I want you very badly. To love me like this, to stay mine. [ a beat, then murmured low against his hair, almost shy.]
I think that I love you, too.
asjkashklhf iM SCREAMING I LOVE THESE TWO T_T <3
this, he thinks, is why they have found one another. what other reason could there be to press two pathetic misfits up against one another? why else is adam still alive, when lestat so easily could have drained him and left his body to rot like so many others?
adam holds lestat tight against him, stronger now that he's come back to himself. he rocks them back and forth, the same way lestat did to him just moment ago, slow movements meant to soothe and calm. he doesn't know what he's doing but it doesn't matter; all that matters is that he has lestat here with him, tucked close, their breaths slowly falling into sync.
You should be with other mortals, Adam.
the sentiment makes laughter rise in his chest, unbidden - much less hysterical than lestat but similarly sudden. the thought itself strikes him as ridiculous, but he can guess as to why lestat says it. being caught in the claws of an immortal creature is surely more painful a life to live than one spent idling the mundane days away with others like yourself.
he wants to speak but lestat continues, and when he murmurs those words, speaks them into existence, adam can feel his entire body shake beneath the weight of them.
love. lestat's love. no mortal could ever compare. adam knows, now, what this means, how powerful and all-consuming that love is; he felt it, in the memory he was shown. felt how much lestat loved louis, how much it hurt him to continually seek out reciprocation. and he knows, now, how vulnerable lestat must feel confessing this same love to adam, carving open his own chest to reveal the beating heart inside, bruised and bloody, hoping and wishing that adam will treat it more gently than those who came before.
a strangled noise sounds in his throat. his fingers clutch at lestat, trying to pull him impossibly close. when he speaks his voice sounds wretched, as though he's holding all of his love in his throat and trying desperately to push it out into the air, into lestat's ears, his head, his heart. ]
Yours.
[ he pulls back, expression twisted into one of fierce determination; his skin is coated in blood and tears, but he pays no attention to it. his eyes flash, his lips tremble, as he continues: ]
Keep me. Let me be yours. Let me love you.
birds of a feather billie ellish.mp3
so many pieces of lestat's heart would belong to others forever. louis a constant, timeless love, ebbing and flowing with the seasons. armand in a painful mirror of himself, a terrible reflection of all his worst traits. gabrielle, with all the base longing of a child wishing for a parent's kind hand. the meagre time he has spent with adam seems frivolous in contrast, but potent in the overwhelming joy. a simpler fragment of love that he had only seen glimpses of, what he had wished for yet did not think he deserved.
armand's warnings of entangling with mortals were very real, he knew this. their lifespan would be over in a flash, leaving him only with memories and an overwhelming grief. but he needed this, needed the sweetness that came with adam's pulse, his boyish enthusiasm and most of all - unflinching gaze into the heart of his monstrousness.
yes, he was horribly in love with this mortal man. the unwavering resolve shining in the brunette's expression made lestat's heart surge, comforted in his moment of vulnerability. how does he, with all of his decades of life and inhuman strength feel so shielded by such declarations? by being held and rocked, comforted by far weaker arms than his.
strands of hair stick to his cheeks as he nods solemnly at first, then with a wobbly smile. it's hard not to burst back into tears but he tries, takes adam's jaw so carefully into his palm and strokes his thumb over that brave, trembling mouth. ]
--For as long as you wish to stay, I will take you gladly. [ a sniff, eyes watering again. ] Do not think that you have to. Your time is precious, I will not hold it against you if you wish to live apart.
But you will be handsome to me, always. [ oop, there go the tears spilling down his cheeks. it's very hard not to think about how beautiful the crow's feet would be at the corners of adam's eyes as he ages, the greys coming through to streak the darks of his hair. maybe he'd finally let stubble dust his jaw and upper lips, but that youthful spark in his eyes would never really fade.
lestat's own eyes crinkle at the corners as he thumbs across the crease in adam's brow to his temple, fond. ]
And if you still love me at the end of your life, you will call me to your bedside for me to witness. I would not wish for you to slip into the darkness alone.
how DARE you?!?!!?! 😭😭😭💖💖💖
he knows there are others. there may be others still to come. but right now, here in this moment, it is just the two of them, and that is enough.
he smiles back at that wobbly thing on lestat's face, hope lighting up his eyes as he listens to the blond's declaration. a soft scoff leaves him, affectionate, at the mention of him ever wanting to spend his time away from lestat. perhaps that will happen, in time - but right now, he cannot imagine it.
the mention of his aging, his inevitable passing into the dark, makes his eyebrows knit together slightly - but lestat is smiling at him still, those crimson tears tracking down his cheeks in small rivulets, and he looks so tragically charming that adam cannot help but lean in to kiss him, to kiss his lips and his face and the corners of his eyes. a thousand tiny reassurances: I am here. ]
I don't wanna think about that.
[ something any mortal would say, certainly, when the love of their life confronts them with the concept of death. but it isn't his death that adam is worried about; no, he confronted that fear long ago now, back in that awful, dirty room, with a chain around his ankle. ]
You're stuck with me now.
[ he grins, and a laugh bubbles up in his chest, a release of the tension they've been carrying for so long. ]
Lestat. My Lestat.
how dare YOU
Yours? [ not so much an inquiry as it is an affirmation, tone lilting up with his smile.
butterflies in his chest and he pulls adam's face towards his, tilting his head to kiss that grin sweetly. they're both a mess once again, the same as they were outside the nightclub after another confession. but this time, it's not quite as far to the privacy of his trailer, nor was the blood of a fresh kill thundering through him to spike his desire. right now, all lestat wants to do is keep kissing those bright smiles from this man, to bask in the safety of his arms.]
You are mine. Mon amour.
[ a kiss pressed to the dimple of adam's chin, the underside of his jaw. strong hands grasp around the tops of adam's thighs to lift him easily, tugging him fully into his lap. seemingly just so lestat can nuzzle into his neck, trying to press himself as close as possible.]
I have cancelled tonight's show. I do not plan to leave your side for the rest of the night, by the way.
It is you who is stuck with me, it seems.
[muffled against the juncture of neck and shoulder. he's very comfortable, inhaling tobacco and the scent of adam's skin.]
how dare WE 😭💖
mon amour lestat says, and adam realizes something: all the names lestat calls him, all the ones adam can remember, always begin with that single word. my. my little one. my darling. my love. always a possessive. perhaps lestat never meant them quite that way; perhaps it's simply a strange feature of his mother tongue - whatever the case, adam does not care. he belongs to lestat, and lestat to him.
it's his turn to laugh a little as the vampire tugs him in close, those strong arms lifting him easily. his limbs settle around the larger man and he grins at the way lestat tries to burrow his way as deep as possible inside of adam, one hand wrapping around his waist and the other moving to card fingers through his hair. it's quickly becoming a habit, a way that adam can comfort lestat without being overbearing.
still, the news of the cancellation takes him by surprise, and he goes still for a moment as he processes it. ]
Are you sure?
[ he does not sound judgmental, simply curious. his words are soft in lestat's ear now. ]
I didn't mean to... y'know.
[ trigger your trauma so badly that you need to take a night off, is what he's trying to say. ]
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Do not think of apologising for expressing yourself, whether you intended to or not. Your capacity for feeling so strongly is admirable, a strength so often hidden by many.
[ a puff of amusement, his little smile likely felt where he presses his mouth to the warmth of adam's neck.]
It is what I deserve for peering into your mind so often, no?
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he can feel that smile, too, and that helps. what lestat says next makes him chuckle, but it also teases a thought out of adam, one that's been in the back of his head for a while now: ]
What's it like, when you do that? Can you, like... hear everything I'm thinking? Or do you see stuff? Or... how does it work?
[ the fact that lestat has been able to communicate with him - to hear him - seems wild in and of itself. adam can't even imagine what he's truly capable of. ]
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Mm, it is as if I am surrounded by many windows, all with a glimpse into one's unique theatrical monologue. If I choose to get closer to one and peer through, often I can hear their lines, watch the performance. Even memories, when played out, are a subjective truth. Warped by perception in their reenactment. All of us actors, telling ourselves stories of our thoughts and feelings of the world around us.
[ a pause, a low hum against adam's skin. ]
It is the body's automatic functions that add context, that are an objective truth no matter the lies the mind tells. I could witness the Adam in your mind give a very compelling performance on how unafraid he is - you may even believe it. But until I hear your pulse slow and scent the adrenaline fading, it is not truly what you are feeling.
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