The scariest part of the 52 years of stalking isn’t even the stalking. It’s that Armand knows every bad thing Daniel has ever done and he doesn’t care.
Daniel knows he’s an asshole. He’s potentially the most self-aware character. He knows he hurt his ex-wives and his daughters. He understands that they hate him and he frequently validates their decision to do so. He gets it. He’s not hiding from his mistakes. He knows what he’s done. People leave him because anyone sane would. There’s no malice there. He knows who he is.
But here is this beautiful, ancient creature who has lived through some of the most incredible periods of human innovation in modern history, who lived in Renaissance Venice and witnessed Paris return to its former glory after World War 2 , who has been exposed to some of the most important works of art in history, who has had so much time to absorb humanity and all its most impressive creations, and this creature tells him he’s in love with him, some random kid he met half a century ago by chance.
And not just that he’s in love with him. That he was actively in love with him while he was doing all the terrible things. None of it ever mattered. Armand has seen every shade of Daniel’s soul, more than anyone else ever has, and he is in love with him because of it. It is one thing to have your mistakes exposed, it’s another entirely for someone to see them and decide to stay.
Armand has so freely given to Daniel what he has been trying to find for himself for half a millennia. The only thing he has ever wanted: to be truly known and accepted for everything you are, including the unseemly, ugly parts. How utterly and completely terrifying.
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