#* wolfkiler .

the stillness of the coffin is interrupted by soft skin ; louis thinks it is a dream at first ㅤ─ ㅤ it must be ㅤ─ ㅤ for when he opens his eyes , he sees lestat gazing down at him with his yellow hair shining as brightly as his memory of a louisiana sunrise . the sky hovering over him is bright blue and louis thinks he can smell mama's cooking in the distance . thinks he can hear paul muttering to the birds perched on his shoulders , grace calling for them to come inside ... his family all in one place , perfectly content under the same sun .

when louis actually manages to wake himself from his deep sleep , only one thing remains ; lestat de lioncourt , laying beside him , perfectly tangled around his body in the impenetrable darkness of his casket . it caused a great ache to bury its' claws deep in his chest : most of his family had vanished . a whole lifetime of love and support , swept away , like dust off someone's step . waking up to find that his dream was not a promise but mere nostalgia ( something which had already happened and would never return ) tied a tight knot in the depths of louis' throat .

but gentle lips press against his ㅤ─ ㅤ and the pain is relieved . most of his family had disappeared , but not all of it . HE WASN'T ALONE IN THE DARKNESS . one of his arms snaked around lestat's torso , squeezing his body tight against his side . " shhh , " he shushed against the other's mouth before shifting a bit to make himself more comfortable . " five more minutes . " perhaps this dream would never have to end .

the momentary flame of the lighter illuminates louis' face in the darkness . the flash of the warm orange shade touches his features and , when his eyes move to meet lestat's , the fire is reflected in his preternatural stare . lestat does not need such devices ; a strategically light pole bathes him in a kinder , softer light which suits his features ㅤ─ ㅤ makes him look like an angelic thing . FRAIL EVEN ; like if louis were to reach out and touch him it'd leave a mark . but they both knew better . both of them had left scars upon each other and , though they had healed quite nicely , they were still there .

louis exhales smoke . lestat looks beautiful , sitting on that park bench , looking up at him . it's hard to resist the urge to sit beside him , to be lulled back into that familiar place where they had both lived happily ever after . but they're older now ㅤ─ ㅤ and , hopefully , wiser . a smile touches louis' lips . it's bursting with a love which , to this day , remains unspoken . " not exactly . " he corrects , sadly . though the curve on his lips is overflowing with warmth , there's a bittersweetness looming over their heads . THINGS WOULDN'T GO BACK TO WHAT THEY ONCE WERE . they shouldn't .

this is when he likes lestat the best ; with his gaze lowered and his head tilted to the side . golden hair falling elegantly over his cheek , absent-minded , peaceful , without the need to perform or entertain or outshine ... louis thinks these are the parts of his paramour he'll be doomed to chase after for all eternity : these windows of quiet contemplation in which lestat simply is . louis feels the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as sharp nails brush ever so softly over his skin . perhaps he treasures such moments because not many are allowed to witness them ㅤ─ ㅤ he wonders if , before coming to new orleans , lestat de lioncourt had ever been known for being gloomy or quiet . had he ever been bashful ? had he ever been careful ? LOUIS DOUBTS IT .