@hvntingelitc ;; continued
The hairbrush stopped mid-brush and violet-grey eyes stared at the letter, he did not need to read it to recognize Marius' penmanship but as Armand handed him the letter so adamant for him to read it, he would. "Of-fucking-course now he writes you. Not when you suffered, not when you could have used a guiding hand, now when you are self actualizing. Does not want you, does not want his betters to have you either" Did Lestat believe himself Marius' better? Absolutely not, he paled in comparison but he would never admit that out loud to the lover they shared.
"My cherub, our Lestat. The man does take liberties with ownership doesn't he. My cherub, our Lestat...and like a bookbinder's wife to gossip on what happened. Need I spell it out for him, send him a tasteful diagram? As if he could remain very quiet...I am not reading the rest my stomach turns at the thought of it, oh poor tainted Amadeo let me give you a bath and make you feel better. " Lestat refused to read the rest of it, he could guess the drivel on it. The pretend grovelling.
"Or to twist you against me. Men like him are very skilled at planting seeds of doubt and being very patient for them to sprout" He would know, he too was very skilled at twisting words and manipulating conversations to turn others to his point of view.
I could love him again,
I would come to need him
I would be again his faithful pupil in all things
Lestat stared at the desk as if it had insulted his ancestors, his eye twitched at those words, for a brief moment visualizing how it would all turn to shit, joy turning to ash in his mouth as Armand sought comfort in his Maker again. Spiralling.
Lestat did not breathe not because he lacked the need, but because the sight of Armand folding into him so quietly, so trustingly, stole even the illusion of breath from his chest.He held the letter loosely between two fingers, as though it might burn him if he gripped it too tightly. My beautiful Amadeo. The words felt like a hand reaching through centuries to reclaim what was no longer his to take. Lestat’s jaw tightened he set the letter aside..
Very gently, he let his free hand drift to Armand’s hair, continuing the slow, soothing strokes he’d begun earlier. The brush lay forgotten; his fingers were better ,firmer, more real. "Mon cœur…" His voice was soft, but there was steel beneath it. "You do not owe him your peace. You do not owe him your presence. And you certainly do not owe him your fear."Armand’s fingers tightened around his.
Lestat lowered his head, letting his forehead rest lightly against the crown of Armand’s hair. "You are not Amadeo. I know that. I have always known that and if he cannot see it, that is his blindness, not your burden."He shifted slightly, enough to look down at Armand’s face ,paler, dulled, but still unbearably beautiful. "You say you fear him because you could love him again but listen to me, Armand. Love is not a chain unless someone uses it as one. What you feel for him now is not devotion. It is the echo of a wound...you will always love him at least a little. You and I are twins in that we do not reclaim the pieces of our hearts we gave away and I do not fault you for it. I can not, not when I too understand. Marius...Gabrielle, the same need that coils like a viper wears many names and faces.."His thumb brushed Armand’s cheekbone, cool beneath his touch. "Wounds can be closed only if we let them" . Lestat let a small, almost mischievous smile tug at his lips not mocking, but grounding and familiar. "Besides, if he thinks he can summon you like a wayward schoolboy, he has forgotten who you are and he has certainly forgotten who I am. "He leaned back, letting his tone soften again.
"Venice… yes. That I understand. That I can give you. Not as a pilgrimage to him, but as a reclamation for you."He imagined Armand standing on the Rialto at night, the moonlight turning the canal into a sheet of black glass. He imagined Armand seeing the city not as a cage, but as a place he could finally walk through without chains.
“We will go,we will walk every street you once knew. We will stand where Amadeo stood, and you will decide what to keep and what to let sink into the water...I would be surprised if you do not find pieces of him you wish to salvage, like reclaimed metal from a shipwreck to weld into Armand, on the parts that let the sea water englulf."His hand slid from Armand’s cheek to his shoulder, grounding him.
“I will come with you if you wish me to,not as your keeper,not as your teacher. As your companion. "As the one you chose and are chosen by in return"He tilted Armand’s chin up gently so their eyes met. "Your love for me is not in question. It never has been. And mine for you…it is fierce enough to face your ghosts with you."He pressed a kiss to Armand’s temple slow and deliberate like a vow.
"Now..." he said, brushing a stray curl behind Armand’s ear. "Go take a shower, I need to make some phone calls and reschedule a few things. I need to attend a commitment tomorrow night that will be impossible to move without causing a headache for everyone in the band so I must keep to it but after that everything else can be rescheduled. Venice in two nights..?" He knew he ought to just pack bags now, tell him that they would go chase his ghosts immediately in his ever impulsive way...but Alex,Larry and Tough Cookie had families too..so he would ask one small selfish thing, for Armand to wait just one extra evening and then Lestat would put his life on hold for him.
