He  had  started  to  realise  somewhere  along  the  way  that  all  he  had  been  doing  while  travelling  across  Europe  was  following  Claudia  like  some  desperate  lost  dog  and  maybe  that  was  the  way  she  wanted  it  he  didn’t  know.  She  didn't  mutter  anything  other  than  a  few  words  till  then  got  to  Romania.  That  leaves  you  hardly  alone  with  your  own  thoughts,  his  always  led  back  to  one  place  to  one  being  who  knew  him,  helped  him  to  see  who  he  was  truly.  Never  had  Lestat  made  him  feel  like  he  was  just  standing  in  a  room  screaming  to  be  heard.  How  quick  Claudia  was  to  send  him  back  without  so  much  as  blinking  she  found  what  she  wanted  vampires  worthy  of  her  time.  Maybe  he  shouldn't  contact  her  yet.  She  deserved  to  be  happy.

It  wasn't  the  first  time  he  had  felt  alone  while  being  with  someone  he  loved,  he  deserved  what  Claudia  did.  He  really  was  a  selfish  bastard,  he  made  promises  he  never  intended  to  keep.  Me  and  you  he  had  said  over  and  over  and  now  here  he  was  with  Lestat.  God  he  can't  lie  and  say  that  this  wasn’t  right  where  he  wanted  to  be.  He  might  not  know  who  he  is  but  he  knew  staying  here  with  Lestat  he'd  be  able  to  find  out  and  maybe  then  he  could  answer  Claudia  when  she  asked  one  day  in  the  future.  He  just  nods  along  to  what  Lestat  says  because  what  else  does  he  say  to  that?

"Claudia  happy  there  Lestat,  she  found  what  she  told  you  she  wanted."  Green  gaze  lingering  on  Lestat's  face  he  hadn't  missed  the  way  he  changed  his  expression  at  the  mention  of  Armand,  so  his  own  feeling  about  him  had  been  correct.  He  is  not  someone  to  be  trusted.  He  bites  his  lip  as  he  dares  to  lean  forward  to  meet  Lestat  half  way  as  he  listens  to  everything  had  to  say  about  Paris  the  theatre.  His  own  hand  hesitates  for  a  moment  before  he  settles  it  softly  onto  Lestat's  cheek.  "I'm  sorry  for  making  you  talk  about  your  maker.  I  should  have  stopped  it  and  I  didn't  and  that  was  wrong."  He  should  have  said  that  years  ago  after  the  fact  but  he  had  been  angry  and  wanted  Lestat  to  hurt  like  he  had  after  the  fall.  "You  deserve  better  than  who  I  was  then."  He  nods  his  head  taking  a  deep  breath  letting  his  thumb  brush  along  the  other  chin  before  he  pulls  his  own  hand  away.

The  softly  in  Lestat  tone  breaks  his  last  bit  of  will  not  to  let  his  tears  fall  again.  Even  if  his  eyes  stings  from  the  blood  in  the  concern  of  them  he  nods  as  his  bottom  lip  twitches.  "I  saw  and  felt  you  with  me  everywhere."  He  swallows  the  lump  in  his  throat  as  he  lets  his  tears  go.  "It  was  a  hallucination,  I  know  that  and  it  came  from  my  guilt."  He  closes  his  eyes  for  a  second  as  he  takes  breath  to  steady  himself.  "I  came  back  to  you  for  you  to  be  with  you."  He   closes  the  distance  between  them  by  resting  his  forehead  against  Lestat's  as  he  finds  its  way  to  Lestat's  forearm.  “I  don’t  know  who  I  am  without  you  in  my  life.” 

Lestat is disarmed by his words, words he never expected to hear and did not think to hope for - an apology for the interrogation he had suffered, accused of hiding and withholding in anchor his power over them, a power he had never wanted in place of their love. He would have told them everything if he had thought his hurricane of a daughter might have heard a single word. It had been decided between them even before he had dropped him from the sky, that Lestat could not be trusted. That he was manipulative and untrustworthy. How much of that had been Claudia's poison and how much had belonged to Louis, deep in his heart?

And yet if Lestat had been resentful, it was quickly forgotten. The trade off had been Louis, and Claudia, allowing him back into their lives and he would have bled a thousand times for that. Louis' words are in earnest. He means them. Lestat's eyes shine with unshed tears. On another day, he would have been better at composing himself, but in this moment, he is raw and exposed. What did Lestat deserve? Not this. He never had and yet here Louis was, returned to him and in the moment, he realized Louis didn't know. He had bought him gifts and written him songs, begged to be forgiven, but Lestat had never really said it all out loud. "I deserved nothing, Louis." His voice trembled.

"And if I were a better man I would have left you and Claudia to your lives together, and sought nothing from you ever again. But I was selfish. I am selfish." His mind goes to the same place Louis' does. "I think of that day...often. I relive those moments over and over when I close my eyes. I see you falling, reaching, screaming." His voice breaks and he looks away, turning from Louis' touch. He stands, pushing off the chair, shaking his head. He paces on the other side of the coffee table, hugging himself. "There are no....there are no words for my regret, for how deeply ashamed I feel, for how...for how wrong it was. I hurt you. I...I hurt our family.

"What I did to you, Louis, there is no excuse or explanation. I knew what I was doing. I knew what would happen to you, how it would break your body and leave you crippled. I wanted you to hurt because you had hurt me. I asked for your forgiveness but I did not deserve it. You allowed me to return home but I was unworthy. You let me back in and still, I hurt you. Again and again. And you're here now, and I told myself if you came back, I would be different. For you. Will you let me try, Louis?" He turns back to him, red tears down his cheeks. The distance between them, purposeful, as if he is afraid he might hurt him. "You have never needed me to tell you who you are, but I'm afraid I am less than nothing without you."

Again, if he could have blushed he would over that simple kiss to his hand. It was the little things, the small affections that Armand cherished most. He’d come here to help protect Lestat, and he’d done it out of love. Well, first he wanted to convince him to stop the tour and maybe there was also the selfishness of wanting what they had again, but as time went on that took more of a backseat. He’d realized perhaps that manipulation wasn’t needed. Maybe he realized affection needed to come naturally, and maybe it’s why he swore he felt proverbial butterflies in his stomach this evening.

With none in sight he slowly lifted off the ground, extending a hand down to Lestat as he stood. “ Come. Let us take to the skies. I’m sure your keen eye will find something. “ The cloud gift was one of Armand’s favorites. Even with Marius he’d been captivated by traveling vast distances in mere moments, and being able to float above everything gave him perspective as a human boy. It was only natural that once he became a vampire of his own, and developed the gift, that he would enjoy the freedom of it.

“ Tell me, Lestat. What is your favorite film? “

Into the air they ascended, camouflaged by the night, and a few errant clouds. By the water, in the green space, there was less light pollution, though as they floated toward the downtown of the city, it increased. Neon lights, LEDs, billboards now basically enormous televisions. The sounds of the city doubled as they left the docks, and Lestat steered them toward a high rise balcony, hearing no one inside for the moment. "Could you pick just one? There have been so many." He reached into his jacket and plucked a cigarette, placing it between his own lips before offering the package to Armand.

"I've been enjoying horror, recently. Don't ask me why. Do you remember the first time you saw one of us? On screen? I do." He lit his cigarette and takes a long drag. He looked over at Armand, the breeze from their height tousling his curls. "They love us. Or love to hate us. They make us beautiful one moment and ugly the next. We are everything they desire and all the things they fear becoming. I blame the young adult novel craze of the late twenty tens. They made those into films, too. I wonder if they would love us less if they knew what we were really like, no? Less sparkly. But I digress. I'm partial to Nosferatu, the original. I do like what they did with the new one."

He smiled at Armand as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, taken away by the wind. "I must have watched the original a hundred times. I had nearly memorized the script." And he'd enjoyed it mostly because he had been with Claudia and Louis, but he didn't say so. "I like when they make the books into films. Reading is fine, but to see it come alive on screen? And the music. The scores. You cannot hear music in a book. Do you ever listen to something and get goosebumps?" He held his cigarette between two fingers and rested both hands on the railing, looking away from Armand and out over the city scape.

It seemed to go on for miles and miles, but something in particular drew his attention. A tall theater sign, electric purple. He looked back to Armand, and grinned. "I found one. I think it's independent. No Iron Man, but we can see what they have playing. If it's awful, we'll just have a bite in the back row." His tone was playful and light and in the moment, he was not burdened by the trauma he carries, nor was he distracted by Sofia and the unread text messages in his pocket. He was happy to be where he was, free and in good company, which is not something he thought he'd ever say about Armand. His feelings remained complicated and he had decided for this night, not to overthink them.