Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Armand spotted the car emptying out of the parking space and seized the opportunity immediately. For a moment he thought his college experience might be off to a good start after all. Actually, getting an amazing parking spot right near campus, when he was already arriving relatively late. He accelerated and it ended in abhorrent failure not even ten seconds later. Before he knew it the old Corolla he was driving crashed into the rear end of a much nicer, newer car.

After the initial shock of the sudden collision, his first instinct was to panic. Then to immediately cower and apologise. To the other driver, to the many people currently standing around the busy college parking lot, to the hit car itself. To the car he was driving too probably.

He knew that the collision was definitely his fault. He should’ve waited until the car backing out fully pulled away and the other car, that was clearly standing there before him, pulled in. But he also knew if he admitted to that outright he would have to pay all the damages.

He didn’t really care about the car he borrowed, it was already a piece of shit and as long as it got him where he needed to go, it didn’t matter what it looked like and thankfully the guy he got it from most likely agreed. 

After all, he let Armand crash on his couch for weeks without payment and hadn’t even said when he’d be collecting the car again. More occupied with getting high and making sure his girlfriend, one foot out the door, wouldn’t leave him, rather than paying any attention to the stranger sleeping in his living room.

But the other person's car was nice. Really nice. Some convertible, Armand didn’t really know anything about cars, but even he could recognize when one was on the expensive side. And clearly new. The black paint seemed freshly polished, not a dirt mark to be spotted.

And well, if Armand couldn’t even pay for the car he was driving to be repaired, he certainly couldn’t pay for someone else’s. There was a reason one of the points on the weekly expenses list he made for college was ‘no extra fees!!!’ three times underlined. He really couldn't afford to drain his savings already, at least more than he already had to.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, once the situation actual settled in.

That sentiment was apparently shared, because the first actual reaction, besides everyone else turning to stare, came from the other driver.

“ Putain! ” a guy jumped out of his car and walked over to the sight of the collision.

Okay he needed to stay calm. At least make it seem like they shared some blame. Yeah, they both fucked up and just bathe it out together. Each one would pay for their own repairs, no harm done. 

Armand slinked out of his car and slowly walked over, trying to appear more confident than he actually was. He ignored the other people standing around who were openly staring at them, clearly expecting an epic confrontation to serve as live entertainment. 

The other guy was still bent over the spot where the two cars met, one hand leaning on the trunk of his own car. He sensed Armand approaching and turned to look at him and Armand’s breathing stopped for a second.

Before him stood one of the most handsome men he had ever seen. The first thing he noticed were the pale blue eyes, first full of rage, though suddenly softening a bit, which were now fixed on him. Add to that blonde hair, reaching just past his shoulders, a strong jaw and deeply expressive eyebrows.

For a second his mind flashbacked to past memories of someone else, until the other man’s face softened further, in an incredibly unfamiliar way, that only emphasised how unique his beauty truly was.

He was only slightly shorter than Armand, but certainly broader than him, even if his figure was currently hidden by a loose button-up he was wearing.

Even though his clothes were just as casual as Armand’s own, Armand could still tell his were on the expensive side. The shirt, the top button undone, a pair of sunglasses hanging from it, and his jeans, as well as his clearly new boots, were still in pristine condition. 

Most of Armand’s clothes were second hand bought from charity shops or trades he made with one of the other boys in the group house. Including the shoes and joggers he had on right now. The college shirt he wore was one of his few completely new items. The only things of worth he wore were the rings on his hand, still left over from the comfortable days. The secure ones. He would never give them up, no matter his circumstances. Luckily, his savings were still plentiful enough that he did not have to worry about that potential dilemma anytime soon. Still, it would be safer for him to find a job at some point during his first year. 

But thoughts of his future endeavours only lasted so long, before the frustration over the current conflict took precedent again.

The combination of the fender-bender he caused, the clear, observable difference of their social status, and the fact that the other guy was fit enough to walk a runway show was a little overwhelming all put together. He felt absolutely humiliated and this was not aided by the other guy’s reaction. Despite the initial softening of his gaze when he first saw Armand, he was now back to anger and it had one target.

“What have you done? Did you not see me? This was my spot, the person pulling out gave it to me!” the man confronted him, his accent very apparent.

Oh god, he was French.

Armand first felt a little woozy, but then he mostly felt caught. His first instinct was to confess. ‘Yes, it was my fault, I’m so sorry, I pay for everything, please don’t yell anymore, please forgive me.’ But he couldn’t do that, he needed to preserve this situation as an argument, not an attack on him. There was a time begging for forgiveness was more lucrative than challenging any type of judgement, but those days were long gone for him.

“Your car hit mine just as much as the other way around! And look, yours isn’t even the one with a dent, so calm down.”

That last part was luckily true. Glancing at the two cars, Armand’s had a clear dent in the front fender, while the other car looked to be in pretty good shape. Most likely just some scraped paint in the collision spot.

“Calm down? You still went into my spot! There might not be an obvious dent, but this is a brand-new Bugatti, not that you would know anything about that, it seems. I prefer it not to get rammed,” he said derisively, sweeping down Armand’s form, as well as gesturing to his car. Well, the car he was driving.

“Okay, whatever,” because this guy might be gorgeous and right about whose fault it was, but he was clearly still a huge prick in his own right.

That seemed to further enrage the guy and he suddenly came at Armand. Rather than back off, Armand came right back at him. Before either of them could actually do much outside of grabbing at each other, they were already being pulled apart by bystanders close to them. They both gave it a good effort but with several men holding them apart they couldn’t do much more than yell expletives at each other.

Armand was glad for it; he didn’t actually want to fist fight a random guy on his first day. Honestly, the embarrassment of the crash was already enough humiliation for him. Once they calmed down, having been separated and kept several feet apart on the respective ends of their cars, there was already faculty arriving on the scene. 

They were responsible for making the first day a smooth arrival for the freshmen and got to task to solve the issue. They mostly worked out a solution amongst themselves, while Armand and the other guy sulked, distinctly trying not to look at each other. 

They both must’ve looked like little children fighting over a destroyed toy. But then again, how much deeper than that was their conflict in the first place?

The faculty workers, though they were probably just older students themselves, came and presented a solution to each of them individually.

Agree it was a simple accident and each party would pay for their own repairs. After all, they both did not check for other cars, before pulling in, even if the spot was promised to the other man.

Armand accepted readily, before looking over at the other guy, who was listening to the same proposal being presented to him. He looked pensive for a second, like he was ready to fight it, before he turned his head, looking directly at Armand. Their gazes held for a moment, the expression on his face unreadable to Armand, before he turned back and gave a curt nod.

They did not speak to each other, simply went back into their cars to separate. The other guy pulled into the spot, while Armand drove around the parking lot to find another. 

At this point most spots were taken, so he had to take one in a far corner away from the campus and therefore, the dorm rooms.

Although, he was glad to be so far away, considering not many people would see the clear evidence that his car was involved in the accident. 

Unless something even more interesting happened while he had to deal with the situation, he was sure it would be talked about by the other students. ‘Did you see the two idiots who got into an accident on the first day?’

Notoriety of any kind was the last thing he wanted. Especially the bad ‘can’t drive or keep his calm’ type.

He was now glad he did not have that many things to bring. All the possessions he brought with him fit into a large suitcase and a single box, meaning he could simply find his room and unpack everything there at once. He still possessed other things, but preferred to keep them in a storage unit, only bringing the essentials he needed.

The longer walk actually allowed him to take it all in for the first time. He was finally here. Of course, he had already been in the US for a month, but it was hard to appreciate finally being gone from the place that brought so much grief, while getting all necessary precautions in order to start college while sleeping on the couch of a friend of an acquaintance. 

Looking over at the buildings he only saw on the college’s website before made him feel like he jumped straight into an info brochure for the place.

To think he actually made it was surreal. A few years late, but that didn’t matter anymore in the grand scheme of things.

“You went through so much, Armand,” his once court-appointed, turned permanent therapist had told him in their last session, when he expressed some doubt, just before he left England. “ And despite everything you worked hard and you earned this opportunity. And you did it all on your own. Be proud of yourself.”

He wasn’t so sure about that first half, considering the part she played in the things that happened, but he was certainly proud of himself now that he saw what he achieved with his own two eyes. 

He walked past the faculty buildings full of lecture halls and studying rooms, trying to steer himself towards the dorm rooms on the far end of the campus. Despite the initial chaos in the parking lot, it was already pretty quiet on the rest of the large campus. Only a few students were still mingling amongst themselves. It would all be far busier once classes started, he was quite sure.

He spotted the two dorm room buildings on each side of the building housing the biggest lecture hall, alongside the dean’s office, though placed slightly behind it. Even from afar he could already hear the commotion that went on there. A far cry from the lase-fare atmosphere of the main campus site. He turned right, towards the designated male dorms. He was a little put off by the separation by sex, but the college assured full accommodation to all queer people, including the free choice of preferred dormitory. It didn’t necessarily affect him one way or another, but reading the words ‘We welcome all LGBTQ+ students and cherish their enrichment to campus life’ on the college’s site was nice, he supposed. 

Arriving on the lawn surrounded by the dorm room building it was just as busy as he expected. Students, mostly guys, and parents ran around frantically, some of them already crying, while the staff, all with clipboards in hand, tried their best to keep the room assignments organised. Other students were clearly already settled in, tossing around footballs or sitting on the lawn enjoying the late summer sun. He was surprised they weren’t all teenagers, quite a few seemed to be around his age, which eased his anxieties slightly. The last thing he wanted was to stick out. He immediately remembered the parking lot incident and winced.

The building itself was pretty unremarkable, a simple brick building, it looked like a simple apartment building. It was shaped like U around the large lawn, the doors to the individual rooms all leading directly outside. There were four floors, and with two people in each room the large building must fit at least a thousand students. The last room on each end of the building leading to the washrooms for each floor. It also mostly hosted bachelor students; others were allowed to live off-campus.

Looking around to find a helper that wasn’t too busy, Armand spotted a girl holding a clipboard, talking to a slightly upset mother. Once she left in a huff, clearly still not happy with the answer she got, Armand made a beeline for the girl.

“Hey, I’m new here… I mean, obviously, but do you have my— can you give me my room assignment?” he asked, very smoothly. 

He put down his suitcase upright, to at least have one free hand at his disposal.

“Yeah, sure. What’s your name?” she said in an American accent, slightly southern maybe, and smiled at him; a lot more relaxed than he expected from someone who was just dealing with an upset parent. Her smile was warm and bright, showing her teeth. Her skin was slightly tan, she was of South-East-Asian descent, he guessed.

“Armand,” he simply said.

She was slightly taken aback by that, clearly expecting his full name, but still went through her list to find it.

He didn’t like telling people his last name, it felt like giving away a secret. They once asked him if he wanted to change it, when he was first taken to the group home. He could’ve changed it back to the one he had before with his foster family or simply chosen a new one. They could’ve changed all his documents, if he wanted to, they assured him, though always suggesting it carefully. He declined.

“Ah, there it is. You’re in room A37, it’s on the ground floor, right over there,” she pointed towards what he assumed was his room. “There should be two sets of keys under the floor mat, one for you and the other for your roommate. One of the keys is for your room and the other for the washrooms. They get locked after 10pm, so if you need to use them at night take your keys with you and lock the door again when you leave, please.”

“Thank you so much,” he responded, immediately turning to go towards the room. “You’ve been a great help.”

“Hey wait a second,” he paused at that, looking at her expectantly. “What’s your major?”

“English,” he waited for further clarification on why she needed that information.

“Oh, that’s good, mine is French! So, I’m also in the language department.”

Well, Armand was not too keen on the French right now, but that wasn’t the girl’s fault. He however did not know why that was good news.

“So?” he hoped he didn’t sound rude, but he most likely did.

“I can maybe show you around or you know… help you out, if you struggle orienting,” she said, while Armand remained uncertain of her sudden forwardness. “Maybe I can give you my number, call if you need anything. Like really anything,” she laughed, slightly nervous.

It suddenly dawned on him. She was flirting with him. He was completely caught off-guard by that. He wasn’t used to girls flirting with him. Anyone flirting with him, really. 

Not that there were many opportunities for people to flirt with him. Almost none actually, now that he thought about it. He was basically privately educated since he was fifteen, didn’t interact with many others outside of very formal social events, and only met a few new people in recent years. And most of them were social workers, with the exception of the group home, which was full of boys that had no interest in him whatsoever, especially not any romantic kind. So yeah, flirting was pretty new to him.

Without thinking about it he simply accepted with a clipped, “Yeah, sure.”

“Great,” she beamed at him.

She wrote her number down on a slip of paper and handed it over. Armand took it with the free hand that wasn’t holding the box and pocketed it, immediately turning to leave again, before she spoke up once more. 

“It’s Sarah, by the way!”

“What?” he turned back, before it registered that she was simply giving him her name, which he clearly forgot to ask at any point during their minute long conversation. He really was on a roll today.

“My name. It’s Sarah.”

“Ah, yes. Erm… Armand. As you know,” he gestured to her clipboard. Oh, he was very bad at this.

There was a time he was a quite natural charmer, on the few occasions that the opportunity arose. People around him flocked to him, if most of them did so to baby him, considering he was often the youngest in those rooms. Since he had grown up, far away from any of those opportunities to be charming to anyone around him. He guessed he had grown colder too, his innocence and wonder changed into quiet awkwardness in the isolation he had found himself in over those years.

She smiled at him, clearly weirdly charmed by his ineptness at being flirted with, and he resigned himself to grabbing his suitcase again to go on towards his room. Giving her a small wave, Sarah beamed at him again, before simply turning to help another person.

While finally walking towards his new room, he already made up his mind that he wouldn’t call her. He simply wasn’t ready for any intimate relationship yet. Maybe ever. He still felt so mixed up about this part of his life. He shoved the errant thought of ‘ Am I even single?’ out of his head as quickly as possible.

He arrived at the door, A37 firmly printed on it. He squatted down and lifted up the bottom corners of the mat, spotting a ring of keys. He lifted up a little further, but found no other keys. So, his roommate had picked up his set and was most likely inside already.

He took a deep breath, bracing himself for meeting the other person he would share a room with for the next four years.

For a moment he imagined the perfect roommate. Some eighteen-year-old who never lived alone before, who was busy studying all the time, who was incredibly respectful of other people’s spaces. Quiet, nice, conflict-avoidant.

Once he opened the door, no need to unlock it first, all these illusions were shattered. He stepped into the room and spotted his roommate, already settling in, surrounded by numerous boxes, who was stocking books into the shelf above his bed on the right corner of the room. The room wasn’t big, it simply had two identical halves, simply rotated by 180 degrees.

On the right a small closet, space left for a desk, followed by a simple bed, the space above the desk and bed area equipped with a single shelf space. The other half followed the same pattern in reverse. Where the other guy currently sorted his things.

Despite his new roommate standing with his back to the door, while sorting his book into that very space, Armand recognised him immediately.

The broad shoulders and flowing golden hair were unmistakable. The guy turned towards him, upon hearing the door open, only confirming what he knew already. 

It seemed, his new roommate was the guy he crashed into in the parking lot. He looked exactly the same as he did when they first confronted each other, though slightly friendlier, still pristinely dressed. The expression on his face was open at first, but it hardened once he recognised Armand.

“You again?” he looked properly enraged. “Get out! This is my room and I don’t want to see you here or anywhere for that matter! I don’t care what else you have to say.”

Armand was stunned. The entitlement of this guy! He was speechless for a second, before composing himself. He would not yield to this guy, just because he was some rich, attractive fop who apparently thought he owned the entire world and everything in it.

“This is my room!” he simply responded and shot a look over at the still open door and yep, A37. So, if there was any doubt before, it was now gone. The writing was on the wall.

All the rooms were designed to house two people. Randomly assigned, unless you put in a special request. Which he obviously hadn’t, considering he didn’t even know anyone else yet. This meant his roommate would be a stranger, his roommate could really be anyone…

Oh yes, it was totally clear, they were definitely roommates. Oh no , they were roommates. 

This was the worst possible reality he could’ve found himself in. Hundreds of new students, all of them complete strangers to him, and the one guy he already has an issue with on the first day is the person he is supposed to live with for at least a year? Armand had never been lucky, quite unlucky actually, and this did not change that pattern.

And he should probably tell the other guy, inform him of the situation they found themselves in.

“So, I guess, we have to relent to the fact that we are roommates,” he simply said, because what else was there to say?

“What?” the guy asked, though the enraged tone made it clear he heard exactly what Armand had said.

Before Armand could even come up with an answer that wasn’t completely condescending, he heard someone calling outside the room. The guy immediately turned away from him, clearly recognizing the voice of whoever it was.

Another shout, this time a little louder, the person clearly moved towards their room. Jesus… their room.

“Lestat! I heard you’re around here, come out!” a woman yelled, the words loud enough to be recognisable now.

“Merde,” the guy, Lestat apparently, said, before glaring at Armand one more time, before he went and opened the door, to step outside.

Armand was rooted to the spot for a second, unsure of what to do. Then he decided to take in the actual room for a minute, his side still bare, while Lestat’s was utterly chaotic, so at least he was respectful of another person's space, before Armand distinctly decided to follow Lestat.

Although he stopped at the now open door, observing the scene before him.

Towards Lestat strode a tall, blonde woman and a slightly shorter brunette guy, both carrying an air of confidence, not unlike Lestat’s.

“There you are,” said the woman, clearly an American, judging by the accent, and seemingly older than most freshmen, probably around Lestat’s age.

“Antoinette, how lovely to see you, I wasn’t sure you would still be here,” Lestat answered, but he seemed slightly put out, though that might be lingering resentment from the unfortunate situation that Armand presented to him only a minute ago. Then again, it might not be, considering how his frown did not wane while she approached, up until she stood right in front of Lestat.

“Neither was I, but I needed to at least sign up for a graduate degree to keep my allowance, so here we are.”

“Ah, and who may I ask is that wonderful young man with you?” he asked, turning to the guy, his face now growing more pleasant. “Good day, I’m Lestat de Lioncourt, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, it certainly is,” the guy responded with an equally strong French accent.

Lestat immediately lit up with realisation.

“You must be Nicki, yes Antoinette has mentioned you quite a bit. The Parisian Violinist?” an almost predatory smile was now marring Lestat’s face, though the other guy seemed equally enthralled.

Armand might actually get to witness a successful meet-cute today. How nice for him. 

He slightly baulked at the theatrics of it all. He met people like this before. At fancy balls held by the British elite, the fake postering was always his least liked aspect of these events, he mostly stuck to the food and the conversations about the latest gallery openings, much to his guardians dismay.

He had always hoped his prodigy would connect with powerful politicians and judges, but instead Armand stuck to the artists and philosophers. The thinking men, rather than the acting ones. Still, he had charmed the people around him in all the ways he missed in recent years. Would most likely miss in the coming ones too.

“I met him in Paris, when he was studying with the famous composer, but I told you, he’s also from Auvergne," Antoinette explained. "And, another thing I already told you, you forgetful fool, he happens to also start here today, same as you. I’m sure you’re going to see each other quite a bit, so I wanted to make the introduction as soon as possible.”

“Yes, I’m sure we are,” Lestat said without taking his eyes off Nicki the entire time.

Armand couldn’t quite fathom it, but some unsettling feeling overcame him. He felt uneasy with the way Lestat was staring at this stranger. Like Lestat shouldn’t be looking at him with so much interest and like the guy shouldn’t respond in kind. Especially, after Lestat looked at him mostly with anger and—

Oh, he was jealous. That’s what this feeling was. Jealousy. Why was Armand jealous over Lestat? He barely knew him and what he knew he didn’t like. And still, a certain possessiveness came over him. He searched for any explanation and barely found any. 

The only thing he could think of was that Lestat was absolutely beautiful. And he had a certain aura that was undeniably appealing to Armand. Since he first spotted him, he was attracted to him, which he couldn’t be too ashamed of now, could he? 

So that must be it, right? Merely envious of another guy getting checked out by a hot guy. A hot guy that hadn’t bothered to check him out at all, it seemed. Completely normal reaction to have.

It was at that moment that Antoinette for the first time looked away from Lestat, instead looking behind him, where her eyes spotted Armand, standing in the doorframe. 

“Oh, so sorry, I didn’t notice you,” she quietly laughed. “Who’s your… friend, Lestat?” she said, contempt entering her voice when saying the word ‘friend’.

Lestat tore his eyes away from Nicki, to look behind him, at Armand, before turning back to Antoinette.

“He’s my roommate. Antoinette,” he gestured towards her as an introduction, while looking at Armand, before turning back to her, extending his hand to Armand. Then he paused. He didn’t even know his name yet.

“Armand,” Armand chimed in, before the pause became uncomfortable.

“That’s right, Armand, my newly acquired roommate,” Lestat finished triumphantly, clearly trying to hide any of the resentment he held towards Armand.

“Ah,” was all Antoinette said to that, before turning back to Lestat. “Anyway, we’re going to a ‘Beginning of the School Year’ party later, you must come! It’s pretty exclusive though, so no uninvited plus ones,” only briefly did she glance at Armand while saying the last part.

Armand wanted to scoff at that. Not likely Lestat would invite him either way and he certainly didn’t want to hang out with a crowd like that.

“I wouldn’t miss it. Though I have to get back to sorting my things out for now. I hope I’ll be seeing you at that party, too,” he said to Nicki.

“Certainly,” Nicki responded with a similar tone.

“See you later, Lestat,” Antoinette said, clearly pleased her introduction of the two men had worked out the way she planned it to.

Both of them turned away to leave, Lestat, as well as Armand, looked after them for a bit, before Lestat turned around and stormed back into the room, past Armand, not even acknowledging him.

Armand sighed, before turning around, entering the room again. Lestat was simply back to going through the items in his boxes, like Armand wasn’t there.

“So, what now?” Armand asked, feeling incredibly uncertain all of a sudden.

“Nothing,” Lestat simply responded after turning towards him. “We are roommates, so what? We’ll survive, you live your life and I live mine. I won’t be here much anyway, I’m sure we can tolerate each other well enough while we’re sleeping,” and he simply went back to getting things out and slowly strewing them around his side of the room.

He said it so nonchalantly and Armand surmised he was probably right. They simply shared a room. That was all. They could do that and still completely ignore each other. Still, it didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to hate his roommate, not have his only relationship with anyone so far be a horrible one. So, he did the only thing he could think of to somehow salvage this mess.

“You were right,” he suddenly confessed. Lestat turned around to look at him, slightly perplexed. “In the parking lot. You were right. It was my fault, I bumped into you. I’m sorry.”

“Then why didn’t you say so?” he asked, the anger back in his voice.

“Because I—” he paused in frustration, why was this so hard to say? “Because I can’t afford to pay for any repairs. Look, the only reason I can even go here is because of a scholarship, I don’t even have a job yet, to pay for anything else. And I knew if I admitted it was my fault, I would have to pay for both cars, I mean I won’t even get the one I borrowed fixed now. So, that’s why I lied.”

“Oh, is that all?” Lestat responded, looking at him slightly curiously; all anger had seemingly left him. “Well, I would’ve paid for my own repairs either way, I wouldn’t have trusted you with that.”

“Oh, of course,” now Armand felt like the angry one. The one who was allowed to be spiteful. What an arrogant twat he was talking to. “Can’t trust some peasant with something as important as your expensive car.”

Lestat looked at him slightly stunned. Let him do that. Armand was pretty clear in his messaging. If he meant something else he could declare so.

Of course, from the clothes, to the car, to the uppity friends who go to exclusive parties, Lestat clearly was nothing but a posh asshole. And Armand was just another poor loser to him. Well, let him believe that.

“Hey, I haven’t said that,” he protested. “I just meant the car is new and I have to take care of it properly, if I don’t want to have to buy a new one within a year.”

“No, don’t worry about it, I’ll leave, unpack later. You can have the room all to yourself right now, like a prince like you deserves,” he said, with a fake curtsy, before he stalked out of the room and closed the door with a bang behind himself.

He let out a huff trying to calm himself, before he headed back to the main campus. It seemed like he would familiarise himself with the library a lot sooner than expected.

Chapter Text

In the following days, he decided to avoid Lestat as much as he could and it seemed like his roommate did the very same. They, for obvious reasons, could not steer clear of each other in their shared room late at night and early in the morning. A lot of these instances were spent in frosty silence, though they were occasionally trading snide remarks.

“Well, someone certainly hasn’t gotten his beauty sleep tonight.”

“It’s funny how pathetic you are, mon étrange, I would laugh at you, but I’m not that cruel.”

“For someone of your background and looks I would assume you’d behave a little more dignified.”

“Sure you want to wear that colour? It makes you look washed out.”

It felt almost rejuvenating, rivaling like that. He always loved challenging debates, confronting other’s ideas. This was obviously not quite like that, their insults rather shallow, but it still fueled that need in him to be challenged, to be second-guessed. 

He, unlike Lestat, as he bitterly believed, never craved full devotion. Much preferring criticism, as long as it was honest. People showing blind desire for him, if anything, disgusted him. Made him feel devalued, ironically enough, no matter how easily he might fall into such devotion himself at times.

Although not recently, no, recently he felt no desire for others, he felt very little at all these days.

Otherwise, Lestat and him stayed apart outside of the room, whenever they could. Travelled in different spaces, both physically and socially, and they were certainly better off for it.

Except, not only did they share a room, but apparently also a major. It was with quite a shock, when Armand got to his first class on Monday, Literary Studies, that he found Lestat already sitting in the back row, with none other than his apparent new friend, Nicki. Or more accurately Nicolas as he has since learned, preferring not to use a nickname for someone he didn’t know or like all that much. 

He tried to act nonchalant and simply ignored their presence. Unfortunately, despite taking a seat far away from them, he couldn’t help but notice their occasional whispers throughout the entire lecture. If they noticed him however, they made no remark of it, as far as he could tell.

On the plus side, the redeeming part was the class itself. One of the primary reasons he chose his major in the first place, was his love for reading. Every novel he read felt like a new world through which he felt he gained a greater understanding of his own.

While the first few weeks would concern general information on literary genres and conventions, the lecturer already teased that once they would dive into actual texts to analyse, they would start with Shakespeare.

Armand was ecstatic. Call him cliché, but only few writers delighted him as much as Shakespeare did. 

He first fell in love with his writing towards the tail end of both his public school attendance and his staying with his one regular foster family. It turned out MacBeth was assigned reading in the second half of ninth grade for all students. 

He devoured the text enthusiastically, his English teacher at the time almost astounded at his unusual zeal while discussing it in class. After that he sought some of the plays out on his own.

Once he stayed with his former guardian things shifted a bit. When the man actually let him study fictional texts for a change, he preferred they be myths of old, stories of Eros and Psyche, while Armand instead always pined for tragedies more in the style of the Henriad. 

He ultimately indulged Armand on occasion, letting him read all of the great works, though rather begrudgingly. A benevolent, yet slightly lofty smile marring his lips while he simply watched Armand read them out loud to him.

But now it seemed he was around people who loved the Bard as much as he did. Well, at least his lecturer did, most of his fellow students groaning at having to do any reading at all.

The lecturer, Professor Andrews, was a very kind looking man in his late forties, chestnut hair starting to grey at his temples. He spoke of all the material they were to learn about with genuine passion, stoking at least a little intrigue in even the most impassioned students. It excited Armand immensely.

And to his luck, the rest of his classes went similarly smoothly, even though Lestat was in fact present in every single English class he had and no other tutor was as inspiring as Prof Andrews. 

Nicolas however, was missing from a few of them, which made him surmise English was only his minor. Not hard to assume which subject ‘the violinist from Paris’ might prefer, though Armand shuddered at recalling that specific exchange he witnessed.

The only reprieve he got from his roommate were the complementary classes he took. His minor in Philosophy was a lot less rigid than the mandatory English curriculum, and let him generally freely choose the fields that interested him the most, with a variety of courses to choose from. He focused particularly on Ethics and Metaphysics, his class on casual determinism capturing his attention from the very first lecture, though he also enjoyed the basicness of the introductory class on Ethics 101.

The following week went not that different to the first one and he was determined to succeed in all of his courses. Always the first one to raise his hand, all his assignments done neatly, meticulously, and handed in on time. At least academically Armand was flying high.

Otherwise, he spent a lot of time in the library, not to study yet, the midterms were still weeks away, but simply to do his assignments and read as much as possible in a mostly quiet place. He did however decide to already mark the week of the upcoming campus fest as his unofficial start to hunker down for the exams.

First, he obviously caught up on all his readings for class, finished well before the weekend even started, but then he simply indulged in idle reading, just for himself. Which meant he didn’t make that many friends. He had a couple of group assignments, for which he exchanged numbers with his randomly selected group members, but it became clear quite quickly that their interactions would mostly stay on class topics.

Somehow, most others already knew someone in every class he attended, whether they were high school friends or met during the introductory week, didn’t really matter.

He was from another country, without any ties back to it, and he had to skip all socialisation events both to keep his academic plans on track, as well as to simply organise his stay in the US. Which meant he remained alone, because budding into other’s relationships was not his way.

He could be quite bold, if he wanted to, but there was no safety net anymore and over the years of isolation, he simply felt like he forgot how to make friends anymore.

It was so easy as a child, you met someone, decided you liked them and suddenly you were friends. He was pretty sure that it didn’t quite work like this anymore when you were in your early twenties. And his teen years were so unusual, he could make no valid judgement on the conventions during those ages.

Meanwhile, Lestat seemed like a social butterfly. He was friends with everyone, or seemed to at least know everyone and everyone else certainly knew him. His core group of friends quickly grew from Antoinette and Nicolas, to a revolving door of ten to fifteen friends, at least always a couple of them by his side. Even the few times Lestat was in their rooms, other than to sleep, there was always a friend or two also lounging on his bed. Most of those times Armand simply went back to the library.

Still, he could not escape Lestat. And for some reason, he didn’t really want to.

Towards the end of the second week, it was a Saturday, which meant no class, he was in the library as usual, finally reading Ulysses for the first time. The book fed both a yearning for something familiar, while still establishing some distance through its modernist style, when he suddenly heard a familiar voice.

He spotted Lestat talking to one of the librarians. He was alone and clearly just needed some help to find a book. He couldn’t quite make out the words, both talking in hushed voices. Once the librarian gave him the information Lestat most likely asked for, he turned to walk to his destination. 

Before thinking too hard about it, Armand shut the book and followed Lestat. He kept some distance from him, always making sure he was a flight of stairs behind him or around some corner, so Lestat wouldn’t spot him.

They ended up in the history section. Armand settled at a table some distance away, but with a clear view of the aisle Lestat stood in. The pointer finger of Lestat’s right hand was moving across the spines of the books on the shelf, clearly having found the shelf that the book he was searching for would be one. Armand watched him with rapt attention, despite the mundane task he was performing.

Lestat was once again decked out in casual clothes, though they were in pristine condition and distinctly expensive looking. His hair was thrown up into a top notch, a few strands escaping and falling around his face. His posture was perfect, while he meticulously explored the books before him. Armand couldn’t help but fantasise about ravishing him, though he quickly dispersed those thoughts.

Lestat pulled out one of the books, looking at the front before turning it over, to read the back. All his movements were casual, yet distinctive. Armand couldn’t look away, no matter how transparent his staring was by now. If the other man turned towards his direction at this moment, he would surely spot him. Armand did not care.

Lestat put the book back, clearly not the one he was searching for, before he restarted his investigation. He pulled out another one and Armand finally tore his gaze away, to look down at the closed copy of Ulyssess before him. 

What was wrong with him? He didn’t like Lestat, so why was he so enthralled by him all of the sudden? Why would he follow him like this?

Before he could answer these questions to himself, he looked back up, just so catching Lestat leaving the room, back into the stairwell.

He stood up to quickly follow, only to slow down, in case he would accidentally run into Lestat, now that he could no longer see where he was going. The questions of his reasoning and intentions were utterly gone from his mind, the moment he could no longer spot Lestat.

Once he arrived back at the bottom floor, he couldn’t find Lestat anywhere. He cursed himself, though he did not know if it was for losing sight of Lestat or for following him around in the first place.

He simply left the library at this point, only stopping to check out the book he was reading, deciding to continue to read it back in his room. Lestat would most likely not go back there for at least a few hours, considering it was the middle of the afternoon. Luckily, he was right.

While walking past the on-campus café, a day later, he spotted Lestat in the window, which made him freeze up. 

Lestat sat at the bar table facing the window, aimed towards the middle of the campus, with a friend. Armand immediately moved out of Lestat’s potential eyesight, but otherwise continued to watch him. Lestat was simply talking to his friend, only occasionally interrupted by taking a sip of his drink or giving a short laugh at something his other guy said.

Armand simply observed him for a few minutes, before he came to his senses. Why was he watching Lestat like that all of a sudden? He didn’t even like the guy, he was certain, so why watch him do things as mundane as searching for a book or having coffee with a friend?

Armand quickly averted his eyes and went on back to his room, to do something he actually wanted to do, like finish reading his book. Which he did, Ulysses finally behind him.

While on the way back, he swore to himself he would simply ignore Lestat from now on.

He broke that promise the very next morning, when he took another quick glance at Lestat while leaving their room. To be fair to himself, his roommate was shirtless, still getting ready, how could he just ignore that? Lestat looked good, he sadly could never deny that.

“Ever considered doing underway commercials? You certainly got the ridiculous posing down,” he snided, before he quickly left the room, not even waiting for a response from Lestat.

And then once again the day after that, Armand spotted Lestat in the dining hall sitting a few tables away, looking at him more than the food in front of him. The mundanity of it all did not bother him, watching Lestat was enamouring enough on its own.

While he never actively sought out Lestat, when the opportunity arose to be near him, to observe him, though never with Lestat knowing it, Armand took it. It felt addictive in a way, gazing upon someone he despised so much, yet felt incredibly drawn to.

And just observing Lestat, he quickly grew more fond of him. He spotted little quirks in his movement, the way he talked to others, the way he carried himself. It all added to Lestat’s image in Armand’s mind. A nice, confident, good-looking, if slightly annoying, guy. A guy he wished would want to be close to him, in the way Armand started to yearn for.

And of course, every English class he took Lestat was there too, never missing any of them and Armand certainly wouldn’t either. At first, he was always accompanied by Nicolas, at least in the classes he was also in, though this quickly changed.

Once it was clear the three of them competed for the top spot in every class they shared, all three of them grew even more distant, at least within the context of the classes. Their competitiveness was clear not just to them, but their fellow students, who seemed almost glad for it, most of them falling in a casual rhythm of participation, while the three of them made sure to be the most engaged at all times.

 Armand was quickly walking across campus from his Syntax class, which he despised, to another elective he was simply auditing, thankfully also one without Lestat, just to be stopped by a familiar voice.

“Armand?” 

He turned around and spotted the girl the voice belonged to, Sarah, who helped with his room that first day.

“Oh, Sarah, hi,” he simply responded, though feeling a little guilty. He threw away the number she gave him that very same day, not even thinking about it since then.

“How are you? I mean, are you doing well so far?”

“Yeah, amazing. I love the classes, everything’s very… it’s going well,” he smiled.

“That’s good, I’m glad you found your footing quickly. No help needed, it seems,” she said, though she didn’t sound accusatory, only a little sad.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t call, I really was busy,” and it was true, even if it wasn’t the whole reason, he didn’t contact her. “But I would love to get together,” he said simply because that’s what people say.

“How about now? We could grab a coffee,” she gestured towards the small coffee shop besides the cafeteria across campus. “Unless you're busy?”

She was giving him a very gracious out and he should probably take it, he didn’t plan to meet her again, even though he easily could’ve before now. 

But something compelled him to say yes. Most likely loneliness, even if he didn’t want to think about that too much. To admit that it affected him more than he probably would like. For a while now he had accepted that he was content just by himself, but that simply wasn’t true, but what would admitting it to himself bring, but more hurt? 

So, he simply agreed and they went to the café, the same one he often spotted Lestat in once in a while, and ordered their coffee. Armand paid, and they sat down together.

“So, you already said college is going well, so let’s start with something else now,” she said, once they settled in a small enclave in the corner.

“Like what?” he asked nervously.

“Hm, why did you come here in the first place, why not stay in England, they have great schools too right?”

“Yeah, I actually applied to some there, too, but ultimately, I had to leave. A lot of things happened there and honestly, I needed a scene change. And then I got a scholarship here,” he ended the sentence with a shrug.

“Makes sense…” she was pensive for a moment, then she slightly lowered her voice. “Can I ask what happened? You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.”

“It’s fine. Just some things with my adoption, my guardian. It didn’t really work out and then I landed in a group home. Well… I guess, it was more a roommate situation, at least officially? But it was my therapist that got me a room and I’m pretty sure all the other guys were all in similar situations to mine, but I didn’t really talk to them. It was just all pretty chaotic for a few years, I had to repeat some school work before graduating, that’s why I’m only now starting college,” it wasn’t the total truth, but it was enough to placate Sarah.

“Ah, I knew it! The way you looked so confused and lost, that look in your eyes, it was so specific, I knew you grew up in foster care or adopted or something similar,” Armand didn’t quite know if he should feel insulted by that, or at least a little offended. 

Sarah took a sip when noticing the dismay on his face, she quickly swallowed her drink, before continuing. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m also adopted, I think that’s why I noticed it in you in the first place. I spent time in foster homes until I was eight, before my parents adopted me,” she turned a little more serious. 

“It’s like you are disconnected from part of yourself, especially when you don’t have a permanent home and I think I sensed that with you. Maybe it has to do with not where you’re from or maybe it’s cultural. At least my dad is also Filipino, so I got that connection. A few of my friends are also adopted and some of their parents don’t share their identity. I know it’s sometimes hard for them. I don’t want to presume; I don’t know the details of your circum—"

“I did nothing but gain from being with my guardian, it was complete bliss,” Armand interrupted her, speaking suddenly, though not loudly. “Everything before and after was difficult, caused problems, but him adopting me was a reprieve. I felt no disconnect with him. It simply didn’t work out in the end,” he defended his circumstances like he almost tried to convince himself, but he ignored that impulse.

She fell silent at that. He realised now how slightly frantic he must’ve sounded, at her rather harmless inquiry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he started to apologise.

“No, it’s fine. It’s my fault, I of all people should’ve realised how sensitive this topic is and I think I inferred too much. I apologise,” she said with the most sincerity.

“It’s hard to explain, I guess,” he simply said. “It’s just… so many years were taken from me. I’m just happy to finally be here now, this was always my dream and I was uncertain if I would ever reach it.”

“Yeah, I could tell you’re older than most freshmen, but I thought maybe you took a sabbatical and travelled Australia or something,” she laughed, finally unshackled from the shame she felt for trying to confront his past.

“I’m actually twenty-three.”

“Oh,” is all she responded, clearly surprised. He knew he looked younger than his age.

“But enough about me, what about you?” he finally asked.

So, she told him about growing up in Texas, falling in love with French when studying it in school and how wonderful college life was for her and how she looked forward to finishing her masters soon. 

She also mentioned her two roommates, she was living with now, off campus. Lucy, brash and sarcastic, with a certain goth aesthetic, though Sarah reassured him multiple times that it was just for show, and she was deeply empathetic when it was most vital. 

And then there was Tanja, a true academic, majored in maths, with a knack for rationalising things out, even in the simplest situation. Her biggest flaw being that she was a cinephile and a snob about it too. Well, Armand didn’t mind that all that much.

And he also mostly listened, while deflecting most questions she asked him back.

He suddenly felt queasy. Even though he didn’t divulge any specifics, simply thinking about anything that happened with his former guardian was always bringing back a rush of emotions, most of which he couldn’t quite categorise. Uneasiness? Certainly. But often also longing. And then he felt uncertain about it all, preferring to leave the past in the past.

He tried to not show any of the discomfort and instead focused on the conversation. Sarah was nice after all and easy to talk to. Once they finished their coffee, she made him promise to come to one of her and her roommate’s game nights. Once again reassuring him about how wonderful and welcoming they were to all the other strangers she ever introduced them to.

“I already told them about the cute new freshmen I met, so you have to come or they’ll never believe me you’re real,” she said, while they were leaving the café.

“Alright, alright, but only if you have Cluedo.”

“Well, you’re in America now, so the best I have to offer is Clue,” she laughed again, though a little more reserved.

“I’ll take it,” he simply smiled at her.

It was genuinely nice for him to meet a new person who simply seemed to like him, without any reservations. Someone he might be able to trust.

They looked at each other for a second, before Sarah suddenly moved towards him, quite clearly intended to kiss him. Before he realised it, his head was already moving back to avoid her.

There was an awkward pause, before she retreated quickly, apologising profusely.

“I’m so sorry, I totally misread that, didn’t I? I should’ve asked first—”

“No, it’s fine. You didn’t misread anything. I do really like you and you’re… you are really pretty, don’t get me wrong, it’s just…”

“It’s okay, thanks for letting me down easy,” she responded, already turning away slightly.

“I’m in a relationship,” he suddenly said, a little more than a white lie, but it also didn’t feel completely wrong. “I mean it’s complicated right now, but technically I’m not free… to be with someone,” that part felt a lot more accurate.

She observed him for a moment, clearly wanting to catch the lie in his sudden statement. But he was sincere, he truly was still very unsure concerning that part of his life.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” she ultimately relented.

“As I said, it’s a little complicated at the moment,” an understatement. “But I would still love to be your friend, I really mean it.”

“Hey, game night on Saturday is still an open invitation,” she simply said, giving him another paper slip, this time with her address on it, even if her smile was still marred by disappointment. This one Armand was determined to keep. “I actually have a study group now, but I’ll see you then, Armand?”

“Definitely!”

She gave him a hug before she left. He was still rather stiff in response. But she reciprocated without hesitation.

Did Armand just make a friend? It seemed like it and it made him fly high for the rest of the day. Or well, until he arrived back at the dorm room.

Lestat was, for once, there and alone, despite it only being 4pm on a Thursday. He was on his bed reading a book on 18th century history, for one of his minor courses.

He obviously never told Armand that his minor was history, but Armand simply surmised it, from the library incident, as he called it, and from the couple of other history text books Lestat occasionally read. Lestat did not read for pleasure, especially not books like that.

Armand would normally just ignore him, but he couldn’t help but get a jab in, considering the unusual circumstances.

“Didn’t know you could exist without your sycophants anymore. Must be excruciating to not be fawned over for five minutes.”

Lestat sat the book down with a huff.

“Oh, that’s right, you don’t understand the concept of having friends,” Lestat sniped right back. He always did, neither of them was particularly good at taking anything in stride. “Don’t worry, I have spent enough time with you to know you probably won’t have to worry about having to understand it anytime soon anyway.”

This would probably sting a lot, but after his failed-date turned successful friendship-encounter, Armand could merely smirk at that.

“I think you misunderstand, the reason you don’t know anyone I hang out with is because I wouldn’t subject anyone I liked to being around you,” technically it was true, he wouldn’t bring Sarah here, wouldn’t introduce her to Lestat. If it was partially because he was almost afraid of the possibility that once she knew Lestat, she would like him more than she had liked Armand, he didn’t let himself linger on that thought.

“See that’s the difference between me and you. I make impressions! Meanwhile, I can take anyone I like here and it doesn’t matter if you’re here or not, if they meet you or not, because you’re nothing.”

Armand tried to not let the actual hurt he felt at that comment change his expression, but he feared he slightly did. So, he quickly averted his gaze away from Lestat and instead pretended to be too busy himself by putting his messenger back away. 

For once he decided to grow silent. Most of their other sparring matches usually only end by one of them leaving the room. This silent coexistence otherwise only happened if they didn’t start a fight in the first place.

At this point he was only waiting for more disparaging comments from Lestat. Maybe some gloating, that he finally won one of these fights, was the first to actually emerge triumphant from these petty arguments for once. Just another jewel in Lestat’s already adorned crown.

Instead, he said the one thing Armand would’ve never expected to hear from Lestat.

“I’m sorry, that was too harsh,” he simply apologised.

Armand immediately turned around, wide-eyed, almost waiting for a punchline that never came.

“I can see you’re struggling a bit, I shouldn’t have thrown that back in your face,” he sounded so sincere. “I love sparring with you, honestly, it’s a little refreshing, you’re not wrong that most of my friends act very favourably towards me. But I assumed these little disputes do not actually annoy you and let’s not make them more serious than they are.”

Armand was speechless. Lestat not only wasn’t hostile in his admission; he was completely sincere. Lestat thought their arguments were fun? Armand had fun of course, but only because it annoyed Lestat. Because he didn’t like Lestat and Lestat certainly didn’t like him. He at least didn’t treat his actual friends like that. For them he had nothing but the most flowery words to say.

“What? You hate me!” Armand exclaimed in shock more than anything else.

“I don’t hate you,” Lestat seemed to actually be affronted. “I was angry at you when we first met, I mean, you just crashed into me, but no, hate is too strong a word, especially after you explained everything. Actually, I’m quite fond of you now, no one gets me quite as riled up as you,” he smiled at Armand and actually had the audacity to throw in a wink.

Was this some kind of plot? Was he trying to trick Armand into saying something stupid? Armand felt the sudden urge to check the closets just to see if someone was hiding in them, ready to jump out and laugh at him.

“I kind of assumed you would feel the same, considering you talked to me again. Also, you make every course we share more interesting, I love someone finally challenging me academically. You and Nicki keep me guessing.”

“Felt what exactly? And didn’t you and Nicolas end your friendship because he fights for the top spot with you?”

“Us, he competes with both of us, don’t sell yourself short. And no, he and I still like each other quite a lot, but sitting apart does prevent arguments in the middle of class. Better to compete silently.”

He said it like it was all so obvious, like Armand should already know all of this, because it was clear. Well, none of it was obvious or clear to Armand. 

“And to your first question, when you didn’t ignore me, I saw it as you extending an olive branch.”

“You thought me insulting you was a peace offering?” Lestat baffled him again and again.

“It seemed better than being completely ignored by my roommate for the rest of the year. And let’s be honest, you weren’t that serious about it anyway. Half your insult included comparing me to royalty and fashion models, not the most hard-hitting stuff, is it now?” he looked genuinely intrigued and amused now. “However, if it did cause you any genuine distress, I do apologise.”

Did it? If he was completely honest with himself, none of Lestat’s insults ever bothered him and insulting Lestat was only ever satisfying. And competing with Lestat certainly helped his academic career, even if he would’ve worked hard regardless. But it did add to it.

But instead of enjoying this revelation, that this was in fact all in good fun for both of them, it only dismayed him. Because he did want to hurt Lestat, wanted him to feel bad, because he thought he was awful and… well he was wrong. 

Lestat wasn’t an entitled stuck-up. Lestat wasn’t awful, and just by sheer luck was he the type of guy who enjoyed some basic stranger insulting him. Armand could’ve been actually awful to a perfectly nice guy, merely because he misjudged him. He could’ve really hurt someone who didn’t deserve that and he would’ve been completely ignorant of that. Hurting someone without even realising it.

Guilt flooded Armand in a way he never experienced before. He wanted to beg Lestat for forgiveness, beg him to not be mad at him, hurt him if he wanted to. Except, Lestat wasn’t mad, clearly didn’t want to hurt him. He had no reason to. Mostly he looked slightly concerned now, by the ongoing silence and the emotions that must have played out on Armand’s face, his façade completely gone at the revelation.

“You? Apologising? I actually thought I was being mean to you; shouldn’t that make you hate me?” Armand inquired.

Lestat thought about that for a moment, before shaking his head.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said. “If it helps, it’s not like I’m a saint. My friends still say pretty mean things about you after you leave the room, if that helps.”

It kind of did.

“Well, fuck them, then,” Armand responded, before thinking.

“Yes! Fuck them,” Lestat simply laughed. “How about we drop the whole ‘only insults’ thing and just say whatever we want to each other? Good or bad.”

“Or neutral?”

“Sure, neutral conversation would be a good restart,” Lestat readily agreed. “I feel like we might have a lot more in common than we are actually different, cherié .”

Armand ignored the heat rising in his cheeks at the endearment.

So, they ended up talking. Talking a lot. Armand about England, living with five roommates, and how he got his scholarship. 

Lestat about France, growing up in the countryside, though skimming only details, mostly about tending to horses and hunting with his dogs, and how freeing college life felt. 

 Both of them acknowledged and appreciated that they were a lot older than the average first year student, but neither seemed quite comfortable explaining why, so they otherwise skipped that topic for now.

Ultimately, Lestat was right, they had a lot more in common than Armand would’ve assumed and all that built up resentment from the last few weeks completely left Armand. He no longer despised Lestat in any way and part of him started to doubt he ever truly did.

Chapter Text

Not having to pretend to hate Lestat was making things a lot easier for Armand at first.

For one, he could actually be in his room more, instead of constantly fleeing to the library. They could also have nice conversations, mostly brief ones, before they genuinely started to organically grow close to one another. It also meant he no longer needed to follow Lestat, because if he really wanted to be around him, he could simply go to him and greet him like good acquaintances did. Which also resulted in Lestat’s friends acknowledging him now, even if mostly through short greetings. But a couple of them seemed to be interested enough in Armand that they even invited him along, when they collected Lestat to go out to eat and he happened to be around.

A notable exception was Nicolas, who was immediately dismayed, the moment he realised Lestat and Armand were on anything but hostile grounds with each other. To a certain degree it pleased Armand, clearly being seen as nothing but competition for Lestat’s affection. Threatening competition, most importantly.

However, that first meeting with Sarah had made him realise how much his previous loneliness had been bothering him since he started college, probably even before then, and so he went along when he was invited. It turned out that at least some of Lestat’s friends were actually pretty decent, to his slight chagrin.

Not hating Lestat should’ve really only improved things for him. Except it made one thing very hard to deny now.

Not hating Lestat meant he had to come to terms with how attracted he was to him. When he could pretend that he was an idiot and a pretentious asshole, staving these feelings off was pretty easy, even while following him around, but now…

Now he looked at Lestat and he could no longer deny how incredibly attracted he was to him, just like when he first saw him. Being drawn to his looks was one thing, but this genuine attraction towards Lestat was new and frankly threw him off-kilter.

His blue eyes were dazzling, seemingly changing colour depending on the light. His hair mostly hung loose in golden waves, though at times he tied it back, most often when Lestat was a little stressed, still tucking already tied-back strands behind his ear. Armand’s favourite was, when he tied the top half back, while letting the bottom one hang over his shoulders.

As much as he meant them as insults at the time, his comments about Lestat’s looks being model-like were still correct now.

Sometimes Lestat would take some time before putting a shirt on after a shower, simply lounging shirtless in his desk chair, while he scrolled on his phone. When Armand felt slightly brave, he would take quick glances at Lestat’s exposed chest and stomach, trying his best to conceal the shudder of pleasure that came over him. Lestat was perfect, at least everything he had seen so far was perfect, and it really made him yearn to see the rest.

And this didn’t even include how much he liked Lestat for his personality alone. He was funny and confident and genuinely caring for others. He could be volatile and vicious, especially when caught up in big emotions, but also exceedingly forgiving of others transgressions. All in all, Lestat was outrageous and Armand couldn’t help but be enamoured by him.

One time, while they were in their room, each silently completing assignments, Armand was vigorously taking notes on his iPad, while Lestat simply lounged back on his bed, book in his lap and marker in hand, he complimented Armand’s hair.

“I love your curls, by the way,” he said out of the blue. Armand looked up, Lestat was simply staring at him. “They look exactly like the ones in Botticelli’s ‘Saint Sebastian’ painting.”

Armand looked at him in amusement, before Lestat turned the book he was reading around, showing him a picture of the painting. He did not see the similarity Lestat did, but still realised the compliment in it.

“Sure,” was all he said in response.

“I’m serious, they’re stunning,” he said and he did indeed look quite serious too. Then he simply looked back at his book and continued reading.

Another time they sat together in one of their shared classes, Armand simply listening to what the lecturer was saying, deeply caught up in the subject matter. He almost missed Lestat sliding over his notepad, showing a little message he’d written in the margins.

‘We can’t sit together like this, I can't concentrate with you so close to me’

When he quizzically looked at Lestat's face the other man simply winked at him, then retracted the pad to continue taking notes.

Armand never knew what to do with himself after these occurrences. They always happened swiftly and left him dizzy. Lestat gave him the sincerest compliments for apparently no reason, just to go back to what he was doing before, like nothing happened.

He wanted to strangle Lestat while he kissed him; wanted to hold him close and never let him go. Mostly he just wanted Lestat. He wanted Lestat and he could no longer deny it.

He reached the end of his tolerance for these ambushes while they were drinking coffee at the same café where he once in a while spotted Lestat and also had coffee with Sarah that second meeting.

After having talked about their respective classes that they didn’t share, which led to a short, but delightful discussion about the ontology of goodness within society, they both just scrolled on their phones, while sipping their coffees. Armand, as always, had ordered a simple cold brew, while Lestat ordered a wild combination of ingredients that Armand tried to memorise on first listen, but spectacularly failed. Well, there was always a next time.

Suddenly, Lestat looked up, staring at Armand for a moment, while he took a sip.

“You’re so mysterious, you know? It’s rather intriguing. And hot.”

Armand almost choked on his drink. He wanted to respond before Lestat had a reason to ignore him, but by the time he composed himself, Lestat was already back to looking at his phone as he always did. But for once he let himself not be deterred by that. He put his own phone aside, before responding seriously.

“Well, you’re one to talk, what do I know about you after all?” he confronted Lestat.

Lestat looked up in surprise, but recovered quickly, scouting his face back into a cold mask. He never really realised it before, but Lestat was just as tight lipped as himself, when it came to his life before college. He knew he was from France and generally well-off, but that was essentially it. Sometimes he talked on the phone to someone in French and Armand was certain the person was Lestat's mother, but even that was unconfirmed. Any question he did not want to answer, Lestat side stepped so elegantly, most people couldn’t even tell he gave them no real answer at all.

“You probably know all you would want to know,” Lestat basically mumbled.

A beat hung between them, before Armand regained control of one of these confrontations for once.

“Lucky for you, I also find the mystery hot,” he had to smirk a little, as he finally threw one of these lines back at Lestat and unlike his own often flabbergasted reactions, Lestat simply smiled back. At the time he did not realise Lestat was simply glad Armand didn’t question him further.

Maybe these mysteries between them were enough after all.

“I’m solving! Mrs. Peacock, with the dagger, in the kitchen,” he exclaimed, while examining his almost fully crossed-out notepad.

“I swear to god, if you’re correct again, we’ll never play this fucking game ever again,” Lucy groaned, throwing one of her pale arms up to cover her face.

It was only the second weekly game night he was attending and he already gained a reputation as the most vicious Cluedo player.  Armand only smiled sheepishly while he reached for the envelope and pulled out the three solution cards, to inspect them. Jackpot!

“I guess, we have to play charades now,” he simply said, while suppressing a grin and turning the cards to show them that he had once again won.

“Motherfucker!” Lucy yelled while playfully punching his arm.

Meanwhile, Tanja only groaned loudly, while Sarah laughed at her two roommate’s antics, while getting up. It was astounding how quickly they already fell into a comfortable rhythm with him.

“I think that’s enough games for now anyway, come on, you guys pick out a movie to watch and I’ll get the popcorn ready.”

“Okay, whatever. But no more Clue, at least for next week,” Lucy reaffirmed, waving a finger through the air for emphasis, while Sarah left through the door to the kitchen.

The three of them got up, leaving the game on the dining table for now, to relocate over to the spacious couch.  Him and Lucy sat down on it, while Tanja grabbed three Blue-Ray’s from the shelf next to the TV.

“I can’t believe you guys still have Blue-Ray’s, I thought everybody streamed now,” he said, still amazed by it.

“She has a knack for physical media,” Lucy stage-whispered and Tanja threw one of the decorative pillows at her. Lucy gave a little squeal while catching it and then laughed.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it!” he said and it was true. 

He always enjoyed it when he had the luxury to watch a movie, and the sensation of actually putting the CD into the player and slowly watching it spring to life and read the information stored on the thin layer of aluminium was almost as fascinating as the actual movie to him. Technology fascinated him in general, just the mechanics of it all.

One time his former guardian found an old photo projector in his attic, wanting to show Armand some pictures he took for one of his old research studies in more detail, just to realise it was sadly broken.  Armand ended up secretly fiddling with it for hours, until he actually repaired the thing. When he finally showed it to his guardian, he simply smiled serenely at Armand, before showing him the pictures.

Armand was aware that the man thought he was above menial tasks like that, that he was destined for greater things and that those should be the only things on his mind. But his guardian also loved to indulge him, which resulted in Armand always walking a fine line between engaging in his own interests and making sure to follow his guardians' designs for him.

Armand himself had since acquired a small collection of movies over the past few years, despite the limited time he had to watch them. He scoured second-hand shops for any cheap copy of a slightly interesting looking movie and his collection grew quite quickly in those few years. Though living in a dorm room, streaming on his laptop was in fact more convenient right now and all his discs were safely kept in storage.

“When Sarah suggested you come to game night, I thought another stupid crush had overtaken her life and we had to suffer for it once again. But you know what, turns out this time she did not lie, you are actually pretty chill to be around. Congrats,” Lucy voiced, seemingly out of the blue.

“Again?” he inquired.

“She can go a little boy crazy over frankly questionable guys,” Tanja said, slightly abashed.

“Oh god! Remember the guy who wouldn’t shut the fuck up about Aerosmith? Or the one who exclusively addressed us as ‘ladies’?” Lucy said laughing.

“Yeah, gross,” Tanja deadpanned. “Now help me pick a movie, before Sarah comes back to us trash talking about her romantic life. Armand?” she turned to him to show him the three movies she picked out from the shelf.

“Why does he get to pick?” Lucy asked, playing up being affronted.

“Because he has proven to have excellent taste when he selected Blade Runner last time. So, Armand, which one?”

He fake-contemplated the choices, already having decided once he saw the selection, before giving a small nod.

“Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown,” he said courtly.

“See, he’s good at this,” she said to Lucy before turning around to put the movie in. Lucy silently showed her tongue towards Tanja’s back, before whispering what Armand assumed was the word ‘subtitles’ to herself and rolling her eyes.  Armand gave a small laugh. He still felt so honoured being let into their small circle.

With a flip of her straight, black hair Lucy turned towards Armand. Unlike the other three people present at this gathering, her hair was clearly dyed to be that colour, fitting her aesthetic. How she got along so well with her two more strait-laced friends still baffled him. She was fit for a cult meeting in some woods, rather than sitting on a mustard yellow couch in a cute apartment decorated with colourful knick-knacks.

“So, considering it was clear you’re not actually Sarah’s next disaster romance, we obviously had to pester her about it until she gave up that you’re already betrothed to someone else,” Lucy said to change the topic.

“I think she actually just said ‘not available like all the best guys’ before crying for an hour in her room,” Tanja corrected, raising her hands to mimic quotation marks, while moving to sit on Armand’s other side.

“Anyway,” Lucy rolled her eyes again, it seemed to be her thing. “Tell us more about that apparently complicated girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” he stared at her for a moment, not comprehending where the implication came from. Tanja simply gave a quizzical look.

“Or boyfriend,” Lucy said casually, understanding the potential queerness of a stranger unlike her straight friend.

“Oh obviously, or boyfriend!” Tanja chimed in, a little less casually.

Armand shuttered at that word. Boyfriend .

It sounded frivolous and certainly inaccurate. He never had a boyfriend and he never had been one. It was deeper than that since the very beginning. But also never as romantic or involved as that title implied.

“Yeah, I definitely don’t have a girlfriend, I mean I like girls, but… he’s also not a boyfriend, I actually told Sarah that it’s a little weird right now. We never officially dated, but it headed that way. I’m not strictly in a formal relationship, but I just can’t date yet.”

“Ah, the ruins of a declining situationship,” Lucy lamented. 

“Something like that,” he agreed hesitantly.

“So, what is he like then? If he had such a spell over you, without actually dating?” Tanja asked.

“He saw potential in me. He knew I could succeed if I put my mind to it and did everything to facilitate and foster that. And he simply loved me, at a time no one else did, even when he was harsh about it,” Armand almost got lost in the memories, before Lucy’s comment pulled him back into the current situation.

“Sounds more like a dad than a lover, must’ve been exhausting. I get why it might’ve not worked out so far.”

Armand wanted to protest that comment immediately, but then he thought over what he just said. Everything he just described was pretty paternal, sure, but he knew that the situation was more complicated than that. And explaining it in a matter of minutes was surely impossible, so he settled on the next best thing.

“He wasn’t perfect, but he valued something in me, that was more than anyone else ever did for me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to devalue this guy, I mean, I don’t even know him. I guess Sarah’s heartbreak made me a little hostile,” she confessed.

“It’s fine,” before he could elaborate further, Sarah re-entered the room, a bowl of popcorn in her hands.

“Do we have a movie set?” she asked, sitting down next to Tanja, putting the bowl on the lounge table in front of the couch.

“Yeah,” Tanja simply said, clicking on the start button on the remote. 

Their previous discussion was immediately forgotten the moment Carmen Maura appeared on screen. And Armand was glad for it, not wanting to harp on any thoughts of his past.  He ended up staying the night sleeping on their couch, rather than travel back to campus, considering how late it was once the movie finished.

The next morning, they had a pleasant breakfast together, keeping the topics light for a change. The girls mostly talked about the campus festival coming Wednesday, well more reminisced about the past ones, and their grocery shopping for the next week, while Armand simply listened to them argue. They let him use their shower and products, considering he didn’t foresee bringing his own, before Armand left to go back to campus, smelling like passion fruit.

He already finished all his tasks for the coming week, sans starting to study for midterms, so rather than go to the library, he decided to spend the day in his room for once.

Lestat wasn’t there, which was typical for a Sunday. Lestat was always out and about on the weekends. While Armand obviously loved spending time with Lestat nowadays, he was kind of glad for it. He had a long week behind him and while he already loved Sarah, Lucy, and Tanja, the evening still took a lot out of him.

He decided to simply settle in for a quiet rest of the morning, opening up the book he was currently reading for recreational purposes, rather than for any class, ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’. He tried to catch up on as many classics as possible right now.

Though while reading, his eyes constantly slipped away from the words in front of him. He lost his train of thoughts and had to restart the same page again and again. His mind was straying from the words he was reading and was turning to fantasies instead. Arousing fantasies at that.

Pale hands moving over his torso. Someone kissing him deeply. Blonde body hair grazing his skin. He felt himself harden within his pants just from these thoughts alone.  He tried to shake them away, instead focusing on the book, but it seemed impossible.

He finally resigned to putting the book aside and opening his pants instead. Most of his fantasies stayed pretty typical while he worked himself over. Mostly picturing vaguely beautiful women either below or above him. Their sensual curves, full lips, open and eager eyes. The potential feeling of them around him. It worked for the most part. But once he approached his actual climax, his thoughts pivoted. 

To strong, large hands holding him, to long blonde hair, to a pale, flat, but sculpted chest. He worked himself faster and faster, lost in these vague fantasies, until he imagined Lestat speaking ‘ Yes, mon cher, right there, keep going’ and suddenly he finished with a groan.

He laid in his bed panting, his spend cooling on his torso, his shirt thankfully ridden up far enough, to not be hit.

That was it, thinking about Lestat like that was the final nail in the coffin. He slowly had to admit to himself how much he truly desired his roommate. How much he wanted Lestat in every way, yes sexually, though not exclusively.

It would’ve been easier if it was simply physical, then he might even manage to get with Lestat like that. He knew he was at the very least not physically unappealing to Lestat, his roommate was sure to remind of that with constant compliments. They could simply fuck it out and that’d be all. No harm done.

But no, he knew once he had Lestat physically, he would want everything else even more.

After taking another moment to compose himself again, he ultimately gathered up enough strength to erase all evidence of his indecent behaviour. He went back to his book, distracting himself from any more thoughts on his impossible desires.

On Monday he arrived for his Literature course, to a surprise for the first time.

He was ready to dive into the works of the Absurd, specifically Beckett and Ionesco, when Professor Andrews started with something else.

“Okay, today we start a little differently, before we dive into the great plays we’re about to dissect," Prof Andrews remarked. “My last assistant had to quit recently, so I’m currently on my own in my research, except for one post-graduate student who has been working herself to the bone. So, I’m searching for a new, reliable, and passionate student assistant. I like hiring freshmen, because getting into the role takes a bit and like this, I get you for the longest time possible.”

Armand’s interest immediately peaked. He so far had no means to complement his spendings that weren’t covered by his scholarship and he hated dipping into his savings. Plus working more on Literature research didn’t sound nearly as tedious as retail or service work. This would be perfect for him.

“Admittedly, the pay isn’t great, but it does guarantee you a spot as one of my bachelor candidates,” he continued. “And I employed students right up to their post-graduate degree, so if you’re interested in that, this could be a great opportunity for the rest of your academic career here. Anyone interested simply let me know and I put you on my consideration list. I will make my decision after I see your results in the midterms in a couple of weeks, but I certainly won’t disregard your class participation.”

Armand was stoked. If he aced his midterms, which it seemed he most likely would based on his past work, he was guaranteed this spot.

“Now, I hope you all have read ‘Rhinoceros’, because we're starting with that one. Can anyone give me a basic plot summary before we get to the good stuff?” and like always Armand’s hand shot up immediately.

At the end of the lesson, Armand immediately made his way to the front of the class, where two other girls were already talking to Professor Andrews, clearly asking about the assistant job. From what he knew, their work in the class was decent enough, but he easily had them beat. Once they left, Armand approached the professor.

“I would really like to be considered for the student assistant job,” he tried to sound as casual as possible. But Andrews only smiled at him.

“I hoped you would, Armand. You’re certainly one of the most passionate students I have had in a while, I’m sure to put you on the list,” he replied, his warm smile only increasing.

“Thank you,” Armand’s elation only lasted until he turned around, because he was suddenly facing Nicolas.

Despite Armand getting closer to Lestat and some of his friends, Nicolas was certainly not one of them. Unlike with Lestat, their academic rivalry was affecting their relationship more negatively.

Also, the few times he now saw Nicolas with Lestat, they were still as flirty as they were during their first encounter, if not more so. In turn, Nicolas also did not seem too stoked on the fact that Lestat was friends with Armand now. 

“I would also like to be considered for the spot,” Nicolas said, while not letting his gaze stray from Armand.

He hated to admit it, but Nicolas was probably the only one, next to Lestat, that was as qualified as Armand. Armand bit his lip to stop his face from contorting at the obvious taunt, while Nicolas simply smirked.

“Sure thing,” Andrews simply said, clearly missing the tension between the two students. 

Armand stood glued to the spot for a second longer, before he left for his next class, trying not to fume at what just went down. The only thing that calmed him was that this was enough motivation to really kickstart his studying for the coming midterms.

At lunch he finally got to catch up with Lestat and they were actually alone for once, all of Lestat’s other friends having class during lunch on Monday. They were searching for a table, still talking about their respective schedules and departments.

“You know, as much as I like my history classes, the environment in the department is so much more intense. The professors even call us by our last names, it’s ridiculous."

“Wouldn’t know about that, if anything Philosophy is even more friendly than English, there everyone is on a first name basis,” Armand said. It was true, he probably studied in two of the most relaxed departments on campus.

“C’est fou,” Armand long stopped asking Lestat for translations and simply enjoyed the mystery of his random French exclamations.

“I went and asked Andrews for the opportunity to be his assistant after class and he was thrilled, by the way,” he tried to sound casual while bringing it up.

“I hoped you would, you’re the obvious choice.”

“I don’t know about that, Nicolas also pleaded his case.”

“Curious,” though he did not actually sound surprised. “It’s only his minor, Nicki cares about music far more,” Lestat remarked, clearly contemplating what Armand just said, while they finally found a free table.

“You didn’t talk to Andrews after class today about the assistant position, did you? Why?” he asked Lestat while they sat down.

“No, not interested. I might be good, but Literature is not my passion, you know that,” Lestat simply said, already getting started on his plate of pasta.

“Hm, but it’s still a good opportunity and if anyone could get it, it’d be you,” Armand was fiddling around with his own food, still reeling from Nicolas' move earlier that day.

“Shouldn’t you be glad I’m not going for it, then,” he asked in-between bites. And of course, Armand was glad, but still curious.

“Besides, I already am an assistant to a professor,” he grinned now.

“What? Why didn’t you say so? Which one?”

“One of my history professors. I’m starting today. He only asked me last week, well officially. He wanted me for the job from the start, but he had to pull some strings to get a research assistant in the first place, he’s still new, not tenured or anything yet.”

“Like he asked you personally? Wow, and here goes my fantasy that you at least secretly sucked at your minor.”

“Fuck you, I’m perfect at everything, mon cher . Well, except Prehistory, but pay that no mind. And yes, I’m good, but I think it’s more than that. He really sees something in me, I think he wants to be a genuine mentor to me, it’s wonderful.”

“I would assume,” oh, what it was like being seen. God, he missed that.

He looked at Lestat now. What would it be like if Lestat actually saw him? All of him. And what if he could want and desire him the way Armand did want and desire Lestat? He more and more got lost in these fantasies that Lestat might actually like him back, as delusional as they probably were. 

“Are you excited for Wednesday?” Lestat changed the topic.

Ah yes, the campus festival on Wednesday. The one last hurrah before all their time would be consumed by studying for the midterms.

“Oh, I don’t know if I’ll go. I really have to study if I want that student assistant job.”

“ Allon! You never go partying, you have to at least go to the one college sanctioned one with me,” Lestat basically whined.

“You’re officially inviting me?” Armand teased.

“Of course,” Lestat replied in a similar tone. “Who else would I want to be with?”

There it was, another one of those little comments that kept Armand on the hook. How could he ever let go of his need for Lestat, when he said things like that all the time.

“Well, I’m off, the next class beckons,” he suddenly said, taking his backpack and the tray, with the now empty plate, before him and leaving the table, leaving Armand to look owlishly after him. Lestat was always in motion it seemed.

Only now Armand realised the plate before him was completely untouched. He had to quickly scarf down his food, to make it on time for his next class, the food, definitely the food, settling uncomfortably within him.

He woke up Wednesday morning at the same time he always did, despite having the morning off, before the campus activities would start in the afternoon. He expected to see a still slumbering Lestat across the room, like almost every morning. But no, his bed was perfectly made and there was otherwise no trace of him. Just now he remembered that he did not see Lestat return to their room the previous night. That in and of itself was not unusual, but Lestat was usually there in the morning, having sneaked in while Armand was already asleep.

He reached for his phone on the night table beside his bed. He went to open WhatsApp, both of them still preferring it despite not being in Europe anymore, and started formulating a message to Lestat asking where the hell he was.

Just in that moment did Lestat burst into the room, completely unconcerned with potentially waking Armand, probably knowing he would be awake by now. It was almost annoying how well they knew each other’s respective habits nowadays.

“Where were you? I was about to text you,” Armand said, while putting his phone aside to talk to Lestat.

Lestat stopped in the middle of the room, stretching, while not yet answering Armand. His clothes were the same ones he wore the day before, though slightly askew. His hair was washed, but not brushed or styled. It was immediately clear to Armand what Lestat did last night.

His heart broke in an instance.

Of course, Lestat had sex with others since they became roommates. But he was generally pretty discreet about it. He never brought someone back to their room and when he spent a night somewhere else, he always made sure to be prepared, certainly never returning in the same clothes he wore the day before. It was never clear when he simply stayed with a friend and when he actually hooked up with someone.

He wanted Armand to know he was with someone else, clearly. Why else would he switch up this behaviour so drastically?

“Just staying with a friend,” Lestat said quickly, without looking at him, while gathering his grooming products. “Finish up whatever you’re working on and get ready, we’re partying today.”

Then he slinked out of the room again. Armand felt like crying at first. He wanted to destroy something. Wanted to destroy Lestat. But more so he wanted Lestat to want him. Lestat to desire him and not whoever he was with last night. Armand soothed himself by reassuring himself that the person didn’t matter. Lestat never actually dated anyone and as far as Armand could tell, Lestat didn’t even keep in contact with any of his short-term lovers. Whoever it was, was probably already long gone from Lestat’s thoughts.

Armand got up and gathered his shower kit and went to the communal showers. Lestat was already there, standing at the line of sinks in front of the mirror, his back to the shower stalls. Otherwise, the room was empty, not many people were keen on showering at 7 a.m. on a free day.

Armand undressed, while throwing a look back at Lestat, who was thoroughly focused on his own face in the mirror, while applying moisturiser. Armand quickly went into one of the shower stalls and turned the water on, set to clean himself from the previous day and night.

“You know what?” Lestat said loudly over the noise of the shower stream. “I’m on a mission today!”

“And what’s that?” he asked while lathering up his hair.

“I’m getting you laid tonight. You’ve been way too intense lately, like even more than usual and I figured that might help.”

Armand froze up, his hands stopping their motion to lather up his hair. Lestat wanted him to hook up with someone? God, if he only knew how easily he could achieve that all on his own, if he just recognised Armand’s feelings.

“So, prepare yourself for your best night in college!” Lestat declared, before leaving the room.

Armand sighed and went back to showering.

The rest of the day before the party in the late afternoon, they spent in their room, Lestat now studying, made no other mention of his apparent plan for Armand and he was glad for it. Time passed slowly like this, but lunch eventually came and went and then he already started to hear commotion outside, many students pregaming before anything official was beginning. Lestat and him held out longer than most, only leaving their room once official activities concerning the fest already started.

They arrived at the campus festival together, though Lestat immediately pivoted towards the drink stand, once he spotted it. Neither of them decided to drink in preparation, rather wanting to stay relatively sober until it was late enough for some real partying.

Meanwhile Armand settled on the patch of grass in the middle of the campus. He was dressed in a simple grey shirt and dark jeans, considering it was a relatively warm day for early October, and his usual rings, though mostly the subtler ones nowadays. He forewent the gemstone studded once for plain bands, though some of them had beautiful and intricate patterns engraved on them.

His favourite one, a silver band adorned with a beautiful sapphire, gifted to him for his sixteenth birthday, he exclusively left in his jewellery box for years now.

All of the students sat in little groups, drinking and talking, while a band went through a soundcheck on the propped-up stage in front of the science building. Despite it not being that late, the sun was already starting to set.

It wasn’t long before Lestat returned with a mojito, and a coke for Armand.

“It’s barely 5pm and you’re already going for the hard stuff? Do you want to pass out before the actual party starts tonight?”

“You don’t know how I handle my liquor, believe me.”

“Sure, whatever,” Armand simply laughed.

It was nice like this. Just Lestat and him hanging out, nothing specific happening, just the two of them enjoying their company. He wished all their days were spent like this.

“I’m just saying, if people were more open to musicals as a medium, rather than a genre, a lot more people could enjoy the complexity of it–” he was suddenly interrupted by Lestat, who eagerly hung on his lips mere seconds ago.

“Ah!” Lestat exclaimed and stood up. Armand followed his gaze and spotted a guy wandering over to them. Armand didn’t recognize him, he was not one of Lestat’s usual friends. “I knew you would make it. Did you find the book?”

The guy had an easy-going disposition and he was a relatively good looking, white guy with short brown hair and a clipped beard. For a short moment Armand wondered if he was who Lestat was with last night, a quiet jealousy suddenly overtaking him.

“Nope, but I talked to one of the librarians and she said she would order it, it’ll be here probably by Friday, you can just collect it then.”

“ Magnifique ,” Lestat beamed, before he turned back to look at Armand, still sitting on the ground. “Oh, I almost forgot. Armand, this is Leo, from one of my history classes, we are working on assignments together. Leo, I told you about Armand, remember?”

“Sure do,” Leo responded, smiling at Armand. Armand gave a weary smile back.

“Well, it’s just that we’re all at Antoinette’s later, maybe you guys want to have a bit more of an in-depth conversation there,” Lestat suggested.

Ah, both relief and discomfort flooded Armand. This was not who Lestat was with, this is his setup for Armand.

“Looking forward to seeing you there, Armand,” Leo said with an easy smile, not even hiding that he was checking him out. Armand was easy on the eyes, he knew it and he mostly did not care for it. In this moment it only stirred disdain towards this Leo in him.

“Sure,” was all Armand responded, before Leo left again, going back to his own group of friends.

Lestat sat back down, simply smirking at Armand, being smart enough to understand that Armand knew what he was doing, but stupid enough not to realise that it wasn’t really working. Armand left him his delusion for now and just smiled back, enjoying having Lestat to himself for a few more hours. They quickly settled back into their usual conversation, the little encounter quietly ignored. And what a pleasant conversation it was.

“So, what is the best musical ever, then?” Lestat asked, before taking another sip of his drink.

The party at Antoinette’s was busy, dark and loud. Like Sarah she didn’t live on campus anymore, but she still had a flat right next to it. Currently filled with students who transferred over from the more controlled event at the campus, instead going for the house party experience.

They arrived once the party was already in decent progress, the rooms filled with many people, a good chunk he recognised, at least in passing. Still, in the kerfuffle Armand ended up losing Lestat, who simply floated through the crowd, seemingly knowing everyone on a personal basis.

Armand however settled for getting a drink and finding a comfortable place to sit, for the better part of the night.

Over the course of the party Armand did in fact get a chance to talk to Leo again and it was pleasant enough. Leo was pleasant enough. They talked about college, hobbies, and pets. Their conversation never cut deeper than that and Armand was glad for it. He quickly learned, or already knew, he had no interest in the other man.

 At one point Lestat did spot Armand talking to Leo and simply gave him a thumbs up, before continuing his own conversation. Armand restrained himself not to roll his eyes, keeping up the charade in his conversation.

He continued to sip on his beer, giving him just enough of a buzz to endure the chaotic environment he found himself in, though he mostly stayed in less busy corners.

At one point, towards the end of the night, people had already started to leave, he found himself in the bedroom, thankfully unoccupied and also the only room where the music wasn’t absolutely blaring. He took a deep breath, the alcohol he drank actually hitting him for the first time, making him realise he was a lot more pissed than he thought. 

His mind was swirling but it always returned to Lestat. Lestat complimenting him. Lestat smiling at him. Lestat wanting to hang out, study together, and discuss ideas. But also, Lestat hooking up with someone else and openly displaying it to Armand. Lestat never actually making any real advantages towards Armand. Lestat considering him his close friend, potentially nothing more. It all delighted and tormented him in equal amounts.

After a moment the door opened, Armand almost expected Leo to find him again, but to his surprise it was Lestat who came in.

“Saw you escaping, just want to make sure you’re okay?” Lestat said, while shutting the door, keeping most of the noises from outside muffled.

“I’m okay, just got a little overstimulated, not used to parties.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he moved to sit on the bed next to Armand. “So, how was your talk with Leo?”

Lestat looked ethereal, in the low light of the room. His hair freely flowed around his beautiful face. Tiny beads of sweat were glistening on his forehead from the heat inside the overcrowded rooms.

“It was nice.”
“Nice, that’s all? Come on, I told you my plan, don’t tell me you’re not into him, he’s hot.”

God, Armand could not understand how someone so smart could be so dense.

“Why don’t you fuck him then?” he almost huffed the words.

“I would’ve, if I didn’t already have him in mind for you. He’s sweet too, would treat you well, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, well, I pass,” Armand was furious now. How was he having this conversation with the only person he actually wanted right now.

“Why? What’s stopping you from finally doing something fun? Why are you denying yourself like this?” and for just a moment their eyes locked and time stood still. 

And he saw understanding dawning in those mesmerising blue eyes for the first time. And he didn’t look repulsed or angry, but simply surprised, intrigued even.

And to Armand’s drunk mind that was enough of a positive reaction to move in and kiss Lestat. His lips finally met the ones he craved so deeply for so long. He opened up quickly, and thrust his tongue into Lestat’s mouth, while holding the back of his head with one hand. Lestat's response was present, but hesitant, he met Armand’s movements, but did not initiate anything further.

The kiss only lasted a couple of seconds, before Lestat pulled back, though not hastily, rather with a certain ease. Armand opened his eyes to find Lestat looking at him with an unreadable expression. His lips were slightly wet from the kiss they just shared and despite it having been brief, Armand was sure it was the best kiss he ever had.

“Oh, Armand,” Lestat said, after a moment of nervous anticipation. “I like you, I really do, but let’s be realistic.”

And like that Armand went from pure elation to completely crushed. “We’re both messes, you know it, even if we never talk about it.”

“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with you,” Armand sounded enraged, he knew it.

“Exactly, you don’t even know anything about me, about my past and I know nothing of yours and I’m sure we both have good reasons for that,” Lestat responded a lot calmer than him.

Armand was upset, wanted to argue against Lestat, but what could he say? It was true. They never spoke about their past in all these weeks, always focused on the present or the future. Even when first getting to know each other, their pasts remained ambiguous to one another.

“And if I told you everything?” he asked desperately. “Would you want me then?”

He was certain any real information he could provide would inspire nothing but the opposite of want in Lestat, still he had to try, at the very least. And wasn’t that the crux of the issue? Their fear that too much unwanted information could completely implode their delicate balance.

“Oh, poor Armand,” just another response from Lestat that indicated nothing but heartbreak for him. “We’re two people who couldn’t be honest with each other, if our lives depended on it. We spent the first few weeks trading insults with completely different intentions, the other none the wiser. I’m not saying I don’t want you, I do, but we would only end in ruin. And why ruin something so beautiful?” he said, his words voiced with genuine regret. “Let’s keep it how it is now, unless we will have nothing at all.”

Just like that, he destroyed them, anything they might’ve had. He destroyed Armand.

“Yeah,” was all Armand could choke out in response, fighting tears rising in his eyes.

Lestat gave him a rueful smile. He moved to give Armand one last peck on the lips, then he stood up, went over to and opened the door. He gave one last look back to Armand, pausing for just a moment, before he vanished back into the partying crowd.

Chapter Text

“And why ruin something so beautiful?”

Why indeed? Armand was sitting on a bench in front of the Language building, having left the flat immediately after the debacle that was the kiss. He was thankfully far away from the commotion of the still ongoing festival, but he could hear it in the distance.

He balanced a mostly empty bottle of tequila on his leg with his right hand, which he stole from the party, slowly nursing it from time to time. His thoughts never strayed from Lestat and what happened between them not even an hour ago.

He wanted to text Sarah, sure that she would reassure him, but he held off. He didn’t know if she still entertained a crush on him, which might’ve only been stifled by his commitment to another. Therefore, confessing that his feelings for Lestat overpowered this loyalty to the one who prevented Armand from returning her feelings, would probably feel like a devaluing of her impact on him. Like his attraction to his roommate made the rejection of her trivial.

Of course, the cause of that wasn’t his lack of attraction to her, but the overwhelming attraction he felt for Lestat. When he was with Lestat everyone else faded into the background. Lestat was simply overwhelming. A revelation in the middle of a life that often felt more like a walk through the desert so far.

He emptied the puddle of drink left in the bottle, before throwing it aside, not caring where it landed. The bottle shattered loudly against the building wall, which startled Armand enough to actually get into motion and stand up, looking at the shattered pieces on the ground. What an apt metaphor for his own hopes. He finally started to move towards their room, just wanting to end this miserable day now.

“And why ruin something so beautiful?”

Ruining something beautiful? Is that what he almost did? Or was it Lestat who actually did it, when he left him in that room all alone?

He basically begged Lestat, kissed him, pleaded with him, putting out all his desires without an ounce of reassurance that they would be reciprocated. And Lestat still rejected him coldly, his sweet words meant nothing in the aftermath of his heart destroying actions.

At the end, all Lestat gave in return was one last pity kiss, before abandoning him without another word and now every interaction they ever had replayed in his head.

Every petty argument, the reconciliation, the casual chat’s bordering on flirtation, the heaps of compliments Lestat lavished on him, the evasive interaction in the morning, after Lestat spent the night somewhere else, with someone else, up to the all too disastrous end.

Once he arrived in the room, thankfully dark and empty, he immediately fell into bed, barely enough energy left to change into his sleep clothes beforehand. He was out in a matter of minutes.

The next day went down pretty underwhelming. When his alarm rang to wake him, the first thing he noticed was his overwhelming headache. Probably served him right, after drinking so much and not even trying to stay hydrated. He got up to get his water bottle he left on his desk the previous day and was surprised to find Lestat sleeping in the other bed. He was sure Lestat would try to do everything to avoid him, but here he was, slumbering through Armand’s alarm like he always did.

While finally drinking some water Armand simply stared at the sleeping man, trying to understand the conflicting feelings that rose within him. As much as he wished Lestat’s actions during the previous night in any way diminished Armand’s feelings for him, he knew this wasn’t true. Seeing a slumbering Lestat like that inspired nothing more in him than the want to crawl under those sheets and cuddle up right next to him.

Armand thankfully had to get up before Lestat on Thursdays, so, once he realised staring at Lestat won’t do him any good, he simply followed his normal morning routine and was out of the room and off to class just when Lestat started to rouse. Avoid that confrontation for now and let him figure out how he wanted to approach it.

Concentrating on his classes was easier than he expected, they actually ended up as a fortunate distraction at first. It was easy to ignore drunken kisses, when one could focus on syntax structures, Bentham and Mill, and god-forbid, even the differences between sibilant fricative and non-sibilant fricative sounds.

Also, for the first time in a while, he went to the library instead of his room, to study for the midterms. It surely wouldn’t make any difference; a quiet environment was a quiet environment. All the emotions he felt he could postpone to later.

He was almost glad he had to study for midterms, no room in his timetable to examine his heartbreak. He sat down at a table in the corner of the English literature section, with his headphones on, some sad indie song playing, the closest he would come to embracing his melancholic emotions, he pulled out his iPad storing all his notes he took over the course of the semester, in addition to all the relevant texts, both class-assigned ones, as well as additional ones he sought out himself. All of them neatly organised into different folders, one for each of his courses.

He decided to go through them chronologically, based on his class schedule. Which meant he could start with Literature. He certainly had the most notes on it. Both because he favoured it, but also because he prioritised it since he learned about the assistant job.

Frantically he had searched for any essay commenting on the texts they analysed so far, with plentiful results. His best find was from a book in the library containing numerous essays on Shakespeare’s often less discussed Sonnet’s. He had to painstakingly scan the most interesting essays himself, the book not even having been digitised. He decided however, to start with the dramas they recently discussed in class, then work chronologically back to Shakespeare, only giving the texts a cursory glance so far.

It only took a few hours of doing that to realise that his gaze consistently slipped away, his handwritten notes on the screen getting more ineligible, until finally his concentration was fully gone. And his thoughts, unfortunately for him, returned to the previous night. God, the way Lestat had looked at him, like he was genuinely hurt as well. The way he essentially kissed him goodbye. What could he say to him now to save the relationship they built so far? He tried to get back to the subject matter at hand, but it seemed impossible.

No, the library just felt lonely now. He felt lonely again, despite nothing having actually changed yet.

Still, returning to his room was the only option, if he truly wanted to be undisturbed for a while, actually be able to think things through. He only hoped Lestat stayed clear of it, for the foreseeable future. Maybe it could be like it was in the beginning, with Lestat mostly gone, at least until the midterms were over and otherwise he could ignore him. But he also knew that wouldn’t ever be a reality again, he would always take from Lestat the most that he could, the most the other man would let him take.

Still worrying about all the ways his relationship with Lestat would move on from this monumental fuck up of his seemed futile, until he actually spoke to him again. Maybe a sober talk could resolve all of this. Yes, end this miserable conflict as fast as possible, hopefully preserving their current relationship.

Especially now, he had no time to focus all his time worrying about this one relationship, when he had more than just his midterms that he was studying for.

So, he instead thought about his studying schedule, rather than all the ways he and Lestat were doomed, while making his way across campus, back to the dorms.

He had neatly planned out in one of the notes on his iPad, securely stored away in his bag. Yes, if he stuck to his plan everything would turn out well. His romantic life might be a mess, but his academic life was thriving. And it would thrive even more, if he got the job. And now he was determined, and therefore certain, enough to get it.

Damn his guardians doubts about his passions and the plan he had mapped out for him. Damn the boys in the group house making fun of his reading habits. And damn Nicolas for trying to steal this opportunity for him out of displaced spite over Lestat. His stride gained a certain confidence, walking over the lawn surrounded by dorm buildings, towards their shared room. He was almost certain it would be empty, like most Thursday afternoons. He could study and in the evening he could finally talk to Lestat and hopefully resolve this mess.

When he got to the room, it wasn’t empty. It was not empty at all, because someone was lounging on Lestat’s bed. And it wasn’t Lestat.

It was Nicolas.

Nicolas simply occupied the space like it was nothing, just scrolling on his phone while sitting on Lestat’s bed. He barely looked up when Armand entered the room. And once he did spot Armand, rather than react with surprise, he continued his casual demeanour, a small smile on his face. Armand did not know how to respond, simply dropping his messenger bag next to his bed, while staring at Nicolas.

“What are you doing here?” was the best he could come up with. Nicolas paused for a moment, his thumb no longer moving over the screen of his phone, before he actually looked at Armand.

“What do you think? Waiting for Lestat,” he simply responded.

“And where is Lestat?” he asked impatiently.

“Nowadays it feels like you know that better than I do most of the time,” it was said with a certain bitterness, to Armand’s pleasure. “But right now he’s showering I think.”

Showering in the middle of the day seemed kind of unusual to him. He thought back to the previous day and if Lestat showered then, but he couldn’t recall. A malicious thought suddenly entered his thoughts.

“Did you fuck?” the question came out before he even realised it himself.

There was no evidence of it, still the question seemed to have been in the back of his mind since he spotted Nicolas on Lestat’s bed. Nicolas in turn looked slightly taken aback by that.

“How do you know that?” he asked and the confirmation immediately shattered Armand.

Armand hadn’t ever had to deal with a situation like this. Lestat didn’t do this. He kept his hook-ups casual, anonymous, and far away. This was someone who he was friends with and they did it in Lestat’s room, without a care for Armand. Armand just continued to stare at Nicolas, trying to process his thoughts. All he felt was rage. Lestat rejected him and the first thing he did the very next day was sleep with another friend of his? Was this some joke on Armand? If so, it was more cruel than Armand thought Lestat capable of.

“Are you two together then?” he asked through gritted teeth.

It was the only thing he dreaded more than the thought of them hooking up. Was that the real reason he rejected Armand? He already liked Nicolas and didn’t want Armand to know? But then why bring Nicolas here of all places, where Armand was sure to come upon him?

“Ah,” Nicolas exclaimed, almost exasperated. “Do you want to know what he talked about, right beforehand?” Nicolas asked coldly and Armand braced for cruelty, for Nicolas to divulge all the romantic things Lestat might’ve whispered about before.

“You. He came to talk about you,” Nicolas said and the tone was unreadable to Armand.

“Me?”

“Yes, so I don’t think him and I are a thing.”

Armand basically stopped listening after the confirmation, not caring for the reason they weren’t actually dating now. 

So Lestat talked to Nicolas about him? What did he say? Nothing good, he could imagine. Did he make fun of Armand for kissing him? Or was he a little nicer? Did he just say how much of a good friend he considered Armand, how they could never risk their relationship. He didn’t buy it the night before and he was sure not buying it now. The facts were clear, he didn’t want Armand, but Nicolas was apparently perfectly acceptable. How ridiculous this all was. And somehow Nicolas still radiated a certain contempt for him, despite being the winning party in this conflict. Lestat returned his affections, while he spited Armand’s, that was all he was certain of.

“Well, maybe you should be. It’s better that way. Keep you spoiled, arrogant assholes together and leave the rest of us out of it,” he said as controlled as possible, not letting any of his emotions of despair distract him from these cruel words he was saying. 

He wanted to be cruel. Wanted Nicolas to feel bad. He and Lestat hurt him badly and he wanted them to suffer for it. At the core of his soul lay fire and brimstone, no matter how much he hid it behind submissive reverance.

But the words weren’t enough, a volatile energy was building within Armand and before he knew it he slapped Nicolas very fast and suddenly, barely processing the action himself, the sound loudly reverberating in the otherwise silent room.

Armand was deeply shocked by his own actions for just a moment, but he just turned to storm out of the room without another word. He couldn’t quite bring himself to feel shame over what he just said and did, still tears started to burn in his eyes and he couldn’t let that man see him actually cry. Because Nicolas might assume he was the reason for his tears and he did not deserve that satisfaction, his tears were only for his loss of Lestat.

He quickly reached the door to open it, just to immediately be faced with Lestat, the very man at the centre of his grief.

He clearly just finished a shower, his hair still falling loosely in wet strands around his face and he was as casually dressed as usual when they were simply hanging out in their room. And still, he looked like a god to Armand.

It made him wonder if he would ever get over Lestat. If he would ever purge him out of his system. Would he be lying on his deathbed one day, still yearning for Lestat? At this moment, he felt like the answer to that was obvious as to why the sun rose in the morning or why the stars came out at night.

How long did he stand there? How much did he just hear of that? Actual shame rose like bile in his throat now. By the look of rage on Lestat’s face, he probably heard just enough.

“Get out! Right now!”

“Don’t worry, I was already leaving,” he responded with the same vitriol, shouldering Lestat while passing through the doorframe. Anger was the only emotion that could prevent him from falling to his knees, begging and begging. Pathetic, after what Lestat just did to him.

He took long strides across the lawn, escaping the buildings framing it. It was scarcely occupied, most students still being in class, despite the late afternoon, considering it was one of the core three days for lectures.

A hand on his arm suddenly stopped him. He turned around in anger just to be faced with Lestat again.

Lestat who had no right to be angry with him, after what he’d done. No words of disdain could ever compare, Armand was convinced.

“Why did you say those things about me? I thought we were still good? And now you call me spoiled and arrogant behind my back? Why?” that last word came out like a desperate whine. But Armand clung to his anger.

“You didn’t want me! I put myself out there and you didn’t want me! And now you fuck your friend in our dorm room and you blame me? Fuck you!”

“That’s not what it looks like! I talked to Nicki on Tuesday so he would ease up on you about the assistant job! What happened after… it’s unrelated. And then he just showed up at our room half an hour ago, but we only talked, nothing happened, not after last night, I wouldn’t do that to you,” Lestat was adamant.

All of that made Armand even madder. He admitted that he slept with Nicolas, confirming he was with someone, Nicki , Tuesday night like he suspected when Lestat returned the following morning, but was obviously lying about what happened just now, wasn’t he? What was he to make of this? It was all so confusing. His only response was vitriol now.

“So it had nothing to do with me? Well, thanks. And thanks for defending me before fucking the one guy who’s trying to sabotage me right now. And you clearly fucked him again, you don’t have to spare me, why else would you shower in the middle of the day?”

“If you must know, I came back from a jog, when I found Nicki waiting in front of the door. Preferred not to be filthy when I tell him we’re not a thing now,” Lestat said derisively.

“You don’t jog,” he said with more surprise than resolution. 

In all honesty, he did not know whether Lestat jogged or not. And maybe that innocuous little detail, that he didn’t even know that, was probably more telling than he wanted to admit to himself at the moment. Lestat only rolled his eyes slightly, before he continued.

“Believe what you want, it doesn’t matter anyway. I just never wanted you to know about Nicki, because I knew that sleeping with him was a mistake. From the get go. The situation right now is complicated, but if you would just listen—”

“I listened enough,” Armand said, while yanking his arm out of Lestat’s grip, before shoving him back and continuing to walk away, not even looking back.

He caught a cab at the edge of campus, giving Sarah’s address, popping in his headphones. Those, his phone, and his wallet being the two items gladly stored in his pockets, while he left the rest of his possessions in their shared room.

He stuck to listening to the music while he looked over the buildings passing by. Before he could comprehend it, the taxi was already stopping in front of his girlfriends’ building. He handed cash over to the driver, before stepping out of the vehicle and onto the pavement. The door to the building happened to be unlocked, so he entered it, striding up the staircase towards the apartment of his friends.

He knocked on the door more frantically than he intended to, but he couldn’t help himself.

After a moment, Sarah opened it, dressed in a bathrobe.

“Oh, it’s Armand,” she said, turning away from him, probably addressing her roommates, before turning back, almost immediately realising his distress. “What’s wro—I mean, come in,” she stepped aside and opened the door further.

He rushed inside and now he could no longer hold back, he sobbed his heart out, while the three women simply let him for a moment, waiting for him to speak.

“He—he slept with—he slept with someone else,” he choked out between sobs. “He rejected me, because of a—because of a fucking fuck-buddy. And now I’m the fucking fool… because I still love him.”

All three of them looked at him shocked and saddened for a moment, before they moved to hug him. Armand accepted it easily. They were silently in agreement for some time, before Tanja spoke.

“That guy really doesn’t deserve you. If he never tried to get with you and now he’s with some other guy, then he clearly never loved you enough in the first place,” their hug slowly dissolved and the women stepped back to look at him.

That’s right, they would expect he was talking about his one previously mentioned relationship.

“Who even is that guy? You only mentioned you were in a complicated relationship, whatever that meant?” Sarah asked.

And Sarah wasn’t even present, when he explained some of the details the other night, only knowing he couldn’t date and only later clarified to her that it was in fact a guy, so she wouldn’t hear that detail first from Lucy or Tanja.

“My roommate…” he said slowly.

“Oh… I always assumed it was someone you already knew in England; you made it sound so entangled. I thought it went on for a while,” Sarah wondered.

“We move quickly I guess,” was all he could respond to that statement.

Sarah and Tanja only looked sympathetic, but Lucy's expression seemed to grow wary.

“Either way, the guy clearly sucks and you should not care about him,” Tanja declared. “And you can obviously stay here and sleep on our couch tonight.”

“Thank you,” he said, tears still streaming down his face, though the sudden panic over his lie distracted him enough to no longer fully spiral into a meltdown.

“Okay, you’re good?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah… I think so.”

“Can I take my bath now?”

He stopped to notice her state of dress, suddenly embarrassed to just barge in and interrupt their regular routines.

“Sure, take your bath,” he said, smiling ruefully.

“Good,” and then she turned to step into the bathroom.

He watched her leaving figure, slowly composing himself, to get back to a normal, adjusted emotional state. Tanja moved over to lean on the couch, still looking at him with deep concern, while Lucy moved to stand by his side. Just when the door closed, he was punched in the arm. Hard.

“What the fuck is going on?” Lucy whispered harshly. “Like what is actually up with you?”

“Hey, what are you doing?” Tanja responded, getting up from her relaxed position, trying to move between Lucy and Armand. Lucy stopped her with a raised hand.

“Armand,” she implored again, hard, but quiet.

“What do you mean?” he asked, though he could tell she knew he was lying about something.

“Come on, it’s clear this is not the same guy. You never got that emotional before and everything you said about that guy in the past implied he’s no longer around. So what’s the actual deal with your roommate?” damn how perceptive she was.

“Alright, I lied about it being the same guy. What I told you the other night happened in England, everything that I told you right now is about my roommate,” he explained. “I just didn’t want Sarah to know, I thought it would hurt her to know that I like someone new.”

There was a short silence now, before Tanja spoke again.

“Ah, I see, that makes sense,” Tanja now slumped back against the couch, while Lucy sat down on one of the chairs around the dining table. Both of the women were slightly annoyed by him, at the moment. “But she’s seeing someone now, so you might want to tell her soon. She will be madder if you wait too long.”

“She didn’t mention that to me,” now he felt slightly hurt, though it was completely irrational.

“She wouldn’t,” Lucy dropped casually. Armand’s head turned to look at her again. “It’s new and she holds out for you, she asked us not to mention him. But once she tells you, you should be kind enough to tell her your situation as well.”

He contemplated that. If he confessed his deceit after she admitted hers, though hers might be a lot less malicious, she might be more forgiving. Armand decided this would be the right course to take.

“So,” Tanja started, after a loaded pause. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Both his and Lucy’s gazes, so focused on each other, turned towards her, before the three started to giggle, the tension finally evaporating.

So, they watched a movie, Sarah joining them ten minutes in, while cursing them for not waiting for her. All three immediately flooded with guilt, though mostly for another reason. Still, it was a nice distraction and, in this moment, he couldn’t have wished for better friends than these three.

The next morning, he left their flat early, before the girls were even awake. He knew they would try to talk him into staying for longer, urging him to stay as far away from Lestat as he could. Just last night Lucy offered, in a quiet whisper during a low point of the movie, to go and pick up some essentials from his room for him. He declined and he didn’t trust her not to do it anyway, if he simply stayed.

The previous day was a rush, but now he felt a lot calmer and needed to take some time to think about everything that had happened, so he decided to take a stroll back to the dorm room, despite the early hour and the long walk.

The sun was just coming up, lighting the residential street he was walking along in a soft orange glow. The skyline in the distance was tinted from dark blue, to pink, to bright yellow, at the edge of the horizon. It was mesmerizingly beautiful.

Before leaving the flat, he searched for his messenger bag, which contained all his essentials including his charger, only to remember he left it in the dorm room. So, with his phone almost dead, he forewent listening to any music. He listened instead to the sounds of the early morning. Mostly birds tweeting.

Basking in the environment around him, strolling lazily through a deserted street, having nothing but these things to think about actually felt like the perfect preparation for the encounter that was sure to come. He knew he was trying to delay the inevitable, but it was just so calm in this moment, he almost wished he wouldn’t make it back to the room at all. Just wander as long and far as he could.

But sooner than later, he did arrive at his dorm room door, faced with the innocent A37 plastered on it. He knew what was about to come. 

He knew he would act cold towards Lestat now, but in the coming days he would tell him that he did not care about what he did with Nicolas, as long as they could still be friends. The night and his morning walk gave him perspective and made him realise that Lestat most likely told the truth. There was no sign he and Nicolas had sex the previous day and if there was one thing he trusted, it was that Lestat was a decent enough guy not to fuck someone else in their room less than twenty-four hours after their kiss. Lestat was brash and often displayed bad judgement, but he was not vindictive like that.

So, it was clear he had to apologise about what he said in anger. The maliciousness of his words really hit him now. Because, as much anger as he had for Lestat, his desire would always triumph in the end. And it was fine, because it was true that Lestat never promised him anything, all his hopes were based on his own stupid fantasies.

Even more to his chagrin, he probably owed an apology to Nicolas too. The guy clearly had no fault in simply sleeping with Lestat, unknowing of Lestat’s and Armand’s growing connection, no matter how much it may dismay Armand.

He took a deep breath, then he opened the door slowly, basically squeezing into the room through the barely opened slip, before closing it softly, but swiftly.

Once he turned around, he spotted Lestat immediately. He sat on his bed, clearly already awake. It honestly looked like he hadn’t slept at all.

A tense silence grew between them, neither one of them moving from their current spots.

“I won’t see Nicki again, even platonically. It’s over,” Lestat finally confessed, his eyes not swaying from Armand’s looming figure. “Sleeping with him that first time was already a mistake, but I promise you I didn’t do it again yesterday.”

“I know Lestat, it’s okay, I assumed too much. And if you do see him again, tell him I’m sorry,” Armand responded, though rather melancholic, while finally moving from the entrance to his side of the room.

Lestat seemed surprised for a moment, clearly not expecting any deference from Armand, although he quickly returned to his defeatist display. It slightly emboldened Armand despite his own insecurities and wrongdoings during their arguments.

“Where were you tonight?” Lestat asked, weary.

“With Sarah and her roommates, obviously,” he rolled his eyes slightly at the very redundant question. “They let me sleep on their couch and actually offered me to stay longer.”

He finally spotted his bag in the corner and took his charger out, before plugging it into the outlet. He sat on his bed, careful not to sit on his iPad lying on it, before taking his phone and plugging it in, saving it from its imminent death.

“Oh,” Lestat’s tone was almost believably passive.

Oh?” Armand simply asked, finally looking back at Lestat again.

“You were with your beautés, I thought you might’ve been with Leo?”

Armand had to think for a second before even remembering who Leo was.

“Jesus christ, Lestat,” was all he had to say to that.

Did he really think he would sleep with another guy for what? Revenge? Is that how Lestat viewed him?

“Which would be fair, I wouldn’t judge you for that of course,” Lestat simply went on, sounding like a beaten dog. “You don’t owe me any loyalty.”

“I wasn’t with him!” Armand said loudly. “I barely know him. I was sleeping on Sarah’s couch. Can you drop it?”

“Of course!” Lestat exclaimed. “But, I do think we maybe should stop hanging out so much. I don’t think it’s good for either of us.”

Armand froze, but he wanted to scream. To beg and cry and scream.

As much as the thing with Nicolas hurt him, he had already forgiven Lestat for it. He would forgive him anything. Why end it all now over one stupid fuck up? Well, maybe a couple fuck ups… But Lestat continued, before he could object.

“As I said, I like you and you obviously like me back and I thought that would be enough to not let this become too involved, as long as it’s platonic. But I think it’s not platonic and it never was and we still both go insane, no matter the precautions we take. And I hurt you, but you hurt me too, Armand, truly this time. So, let’s just go our own ways, agreed?”

He hated Lestat as much as he ever loved him at this moment. Yes, they fought. They were volatile, they started off volatile, but if there was love here, if this was never platonic, why shy away from it? Was that the quintessential difference between them? That Armand would sacrifice his own sanity for love in a way that Lestat wouldn’t? It wasn’t like Lestat wasn’t daring, quite the opposite, but it’s like he knew his own limits, he still had boundaries and it was clear that Armand landed outside of them.

So instead of yelling or begging, he simply accepted it. Accepted another hardship, another rejection, another disappointment. He had always accepted, always moved on, no ruminating needed, thus was his life and college could’ve never changed that, with or without Lestat. So, he accepted.

“Sure, alright,” was all he said, before simply lying on his bed, turned towards the wall, letting silent tears fill his eyes.

He was so good at accepting.

Chapter Text

The rest of the days leading up to midterms passed by in a flash. Now that there were no longer any encounters with Lestat on his horizon, he could exclusively focus on studying for them, while ignoring his heartbreak once again. Heartbreak doubled at this point.

He just went on with his day, going to the couple of classes he had on Fridays, all Philosophy, therefore luckily no Lestat, just Kant and Hegel.

Afterwards he arrived back in the room only to be greeted with a swift “hello” from his former friend, before Lestat quickly flitted out of their room again.

This was fine by him. This was all just fine. He simply wanted to study now anyway. 

He pulled out his iPad, to get his notes for the two courses he had today in order. He worked on that for a bit, why also ruminating on the texts discussed again, adding to his already thorough annotations.

Once he was finished with those, he went on to actually study some, checking on his planner. He hated how close he always had to stick to his plans, though he knew he would get nothing done otherwise. He needed the structure that a solid routine provided, for both comfort and productivity. He never had been a creature of spontaneity.

But it was still very annoying sometimes, like when his study plan indicated he had to move on to dreaded Phonetics now.

He opened the folder for his English courses on his iPad, already ready to go into the Phonetics specific one, before something gave him pause. The layout looked slightly differently than it normally did. He tried to scan over all the coloured folder icons to see what was wrong, when he realised one was missing. There was a folder less and reading the names of the others he very quickly realised which. 

His normally purple coloured folder icon for Literature was not there. He went through all the other folders, thinking he might’ve dragged it into another one without realising it, but opening folder after folder, he found nothing.

He searched for ‘Literature’ in the search bar of the studying app he was using, but no results were found. Then he searched through his general folder, the panic slightly rising in him. 

This couldn’t be, this couldn’t happen. How could this happen? How could an entire folder full of notes, texts, studying exercises, and resources just disappear? And only about a week before midterms started.

When he finally searched through his entire iPad and Cloud storage, including the deleted files section, finding not a trace of anything related to the Literature course, he accepted the most likely reality. Someone deleted it.

Just then he remembered how his iPad was lying on his bed, when he came home this morning, even though he simply put his bag, containing it, next to his bed the day before, too shocked by Nicolas then.

Yes, someone certainly deleted everything pertaining to the Literature class, the one most important to him right now. And it was because he was careless enough to leave one of his most important items alone. Because he trusted his roommate. Because he trusted Lestat.

Confusion and outrage hit him when he considered that Lestat was the one who did it. And with that thought rage was already building in him. How could he do that? Lestat knew how important Literature was to him. Maybe, that would be the very reason he deleted that folder in particular. To hit Armand extra hard.

But that was not Lestat’s style. He was never sneaky; his attacks were obvious and blunt. When Lestat was mad at someone, he showed it loud and obvious and very direct. 

One time he burned one of his friend’s favourite jumpers in the middle of campus, because he talked shit about Lestat behind his back. He was lucky it was relatively empty and no one told the faculty, otherwise he for sure would’ve been told off about it at best. Armand only found it amusing.

But yes, subtlety was not Lestat’s realm, he dealt in extremes. If anyone was shifty, a quiet planner, where one couldn’t see what was coming until the strike actually hit, it was Armand himself. Still, he could not ignore the possibility. Lestat was impulsive too and sometimes rather forgetful, maybe he’d done it and simply forgot about the ‘boasting about it’ part, before he had the opportunity to do so.

He immediately stomped out of the room to find Lestat. He knew he did not have any classes at the moment, they often spent Friday afternoons together, mostly at the café. So, there was where he was headed.

And sure thing, Lestat was there with Antoinette. Both of them sipping coffee, completely carefree, engaged in light conversation. He entered the establishment briskly, like a summoned storm, walking over to their table that he spotted them at through the glass front of the building. Not the table Lestat and Armand usually sat at, in the corner, but one in the centre of the shop.

“How dare you?” Armand confronted him, not caring about any onlookers.

Lestat was taken back for a few moments, clearly not anticipating this confrontation.

“What do you mean?” Lestat responded, angrily looking up at him. “Why are you here? What could I have possibly done to you now?”

“You deleted my Literature folder. The course is important and I told that to no one but you!”

“What are you talking about?” Lestat asked, genuinely confused.

“The folder on my iPad containing everything relating to the course was deleted and you want to pretend you don’t know anything about it?” Armand scoffed. “I left the tablet in our room yesterday and now this one folder is gone. Don’t try to convince me you had nothing to do with it.”

“I did not touch any of your stuff. I would never,” Lestat insisted.

“Then who?”

Armand asked the question and once it was out, both of them immediately knew the answer. The only other person in the room the previous day. A person with very good reason to spite Armand.

“I’ll talk to him,” Lestat said, bowing his head down over his coffee cup.

“No way, we know what happened last time,” Lestat winced at that. Good for him, let him wallow in that guilt for now. Antoinette continued to quietly sit there, if anything she looked slightly amused.

“To be fair, you did slap him…” Lestat tried to explain.

Heat rose in Armand’s cheeks. He knew he was not blameless for this situation, still if Nicolas did delete it, it was still a blow beneath the belt. Personal squabbles were one thing, but sabotaging someone’s entire academic career, especially considering he had a scholarship that depended on him doing well, was a very different realm.

“Unfortunately for Nicki ,” he basically spat the nickname. “I don’t need any notes to beat him. If anything, tell him that,” he stormed outside without sparing another look at the two.

Arriving at the library, he recollected everything that he could remember. He obviously saved the texts they discussed and every obvious, popular analysis. The more niche opinions were definitely harder to find.

By the end of the weekend, he finally found all the texts that he could remember again, plus a few new ones along his explorations, except the ones he found in the older Shakespeare essays’ book. He remembered where the book was, but once he searched the shelf it was nowhere to be found. He asked one of the librarians about it, a lovely elderly woman, who tried to answer him in the gentlest way.

“Sorry sweetie, someone already checked it out and we only have one copy. I could request a copy from another college, but it will most likely not arrive until the end of next week.”

He contemplated this for a second. His interest in these essays was mostly personal anyway, considering the niche sonnets would probably not be part of the exam, and he already had a lot of reading to do regardless and he already had to waste time on this recollection. Ultimately, Literature was not the only course he had to think about. So, he let it go.

“No, it’s okay. Thank you anyway,” he excused himself with a smile, before retreating to his usual study corner.

He simply stuck to his planner, while ignoring the potential guilt over so carelessly having attacked both Lestat and Nicolas, for a clear misunderstanding. As much as their relationship was put on ice, he didn’t want to fight with Lestat, no he wanted their old dynamic back. He was mad at him, sure, but all he craved was for Lestat to care for him again and fighting with him would only accomplish the opposite.

Armand realised the only way to go on, is to do the one thing he did not dare do before. He had to be vulnerable with Lestat. Completely lay himself bare before him. No schemes, no plans, just raw exposure. The way he offered during Lestat’s first rejection.

So that was what he did for the rest of the week, anytime Lestat was near him. Every glance he spared Lestat was rueful and full of the real pain he felt. Both from being hurt and the guilt he felt. Every action he took towards Lestat was yielding. 

Armand and Lestat were quite different, but a thing they had in common was their carelessness. The only difference was that Lestat was careless about basically anything, while Armand behaved like that only towards the things that did not interest him. The things he did care about however, he took painstakingly stock of at all times. And he did care about Lestat and therefore he cared about everything that was important to Lestat as well now.

Lestat’s reaction to Armand’s newfound deference was rather lacking. If he cared about it one way or another, he did not let it on. He continued to keep their encounters brief, even if Armand still battered for the opposite, though rather gently.

One afternoon in their room Lestat asked, “Have you seen my notebook?” after having searched for it for the better parts of ten minutes.

He went through his bag, searched his shelf above it and opened every drawer on his desk approximately fifty times.

“It might be in the second drawer on the left side of your desk, I saw you put something in there I think,” Armand simply responded, not even looking up from his iPad.

He knew it was there. He distinctly remembered Lestat putting it in there only half an hour ago, shortly after entering the room. He knew the entire time Lestat was searching, but he couldn’t prompt him. Lestat had to ask him first, so he couldn’t get mad at Armand for interacting with him. Lestat had to think interacting with Armand was purely his idea. His desire.

Another time, both of them were studying in their room, a thing that happened more and more again. He did not know whether Lestat forgot about the whole distancing himself from Armand thing or if he simply did not care while having to stress over studying.

Lestat simply remarked randomly, “God, I would kill for a coffee right now.”

“I can get you one,” Armand responded automatically.

This did not go over well. Lestat seemed immediately dismayed and he might’ve remembered that they weren’t supposed to be friends anymore. Armand silently cursed himself.

“No, it’s okay, I think—”

“I mean, I already planned on getting one for myself, study in the café for a bit, but I could fetch some for the both of us,” he tried to be casual, while interrupting Lestat.

Lestat thought about that for a moment, Armand could basically see the cogs in his head turning.

“Okay, if you’re getting one for yourself anyway, I would love one as well,” Armand secretly triumphed.

“What do you want?”

“Surprise me,” and then Lestat smiled at him, in a way he hadn’t done in a while. The type of smile that meant he was sincerely appreciative to just be around him. Armand’s heart basically leaped out of his chest, but all he did was smile back, while getting up to leave. If he did a little victory dance on the way to the café, no one could blame him.

However, once the midterm exams started, he eased up on baiting these interactions, completely focussing on acing his tests. And he did. His preparations paid off and most of his exams went without a hitch. Obviously, considering his courses, most of them relied on writing things out, rather than answering questions, which always meant less certainty on whether the quality of the answers was good enough, rather than just having to remember facts. But overall, he had good feelings about it.

Only two concerning things occurred in this stressful time, and one of them he could not figure out for the life of him and he honestly did not want to. 

It was a dream he had the night before three exams that would take place right after another, already having him in a state of deep stress. However, the dream itself started off pleasantly enough. 

He was lying in a plush bed, spread out completely comfortable and unusually sated, warm light was filtering through open windows, falling in soft beams on the sheets around him. At first, he was alone, just lying there, playing with a few dust particles that were illuminated by one of these light beams. His own skin was glowing pleasantly under the bright sun colouring it warmly. 

Then he sensed someone lying next to him, a pale hand gently taking his, guiding it down, before he felt kisses spread all over the back of it. He felt utterly calm, calmer than he even did when he was alone before. He looked over, but could barely see, pillows and blankets around him obscuring the view, only seeing a few spread out strands of blonde hair spilling over towards him. 

For a moment he thought of Lestat lying next to him. Showering him with affection like that. The dream version of him sunk into that fantasy. Maybe they were on holiday together, somewhere warm, maybe near a beach. They went swimming together or sunbathed. And then they came home and lazily made love in the plush bed, no rush, no hurry, because they could do it over and over again. And now they were simply lying together in the afterglow, with Lestat softly peppering kisses over his hand. Oh, what a wonderful fantasy this was. What a beautiful, beautiful dream. 

The illusion broke, when the man next to him started to speak. 

“Remember then that it was love.”

Armand woke up.

He immediately sat up straight, panting slightly, feeling anxiety bubbling up. It was clearly very early in the morning, the room still pitch-dark around him. He checked the clock on his phone, displaying it was only 5:30am, a couple of hours before he needed to get up.

The dream still felt so real, like he could still feel the reminiscents of the silk bedding that just touched his skin moments ago. The voice of his master was as clear as the day he said those very words to Armand.

The scene in the dream was quite different from the actual time his master said it to him, but the words were the same.

“Remember then that it was love.”

At the time he only felt panic at the idea of leaving, but now those same words filled him with dread for another, undefined reason. Had he been right, when he said those other things, before those words Armand just relived in the dream?

“ —these moments of ours will seem corrupt and most strange and this might bring you pain.”

He was feeling it now. Like someone punched through his chest.

This was not the first time he had a dream like this, though it had been quite a while. Mostly he had them while he was still questioned about everything that happened with his guardian, despite Armand’s lack of collaboration, having nothing but praise for him, which only seemed to spark greater insistence that some kind of wrong doing was done to him.

But there was none and then they stopped asking and Armand simply moved on. He had moved on! And the dreams lessened and he was free from everything that had happened.

Free from his ma— guardian. Free from the people that took him away from him. Free from England, and therapists, and annoying flatmates and concerning looks from everyone that pretended to care about him, but clearly didn’t.

Tears were rising in his eyes and he did not know why. He had accepted what happened, so why was it so distressing still? And all he could come back to was his guardian’s words and the fear that they might be coming true now. But he did not think of their moments together as corrupt or strange. They were beautiful, if brief, he only cherished them, even if he avoided thinking too much about them, avoided indulging them. But not because they were wrong, but because he would only miss them, surely. No! It didn’t matter what a string of supposedly caring people said, it was love he knew that much! He had to cling to that. 

He calmed himself, before the tears in his eyes turned to sobs, he could not risk waking up Lestat.

After a moment, he composed himself and then did what he always did, when doubts like these arose over the years. He shoved it all down. All the memories, all the emotions associated with them. The good and the bad. He had no time for it, not the emotional space to deal with them, even when he wasn’t already stressed out over exams, especially not now. 

That’s right, that was more important, the exams. What were today's again? Oh, yeah fucking Phonetics was one of them. It would be a pain in the ass, but he studied so much, had the entire phonetic alphabet memorised and practised transcribing every day for a month, he was ready. And the other two were easy ones anyway, the Introduction to Ethics one he could write in his sleep. Yeah, today would go down smoothly, he reassured himself, until he forgot all about what brought on the sudden surge of panic in the first place.

The other unpleasant event happened right at the beginning, a few days before the dream. It turned out those sonnets discussed in the essays he couldn’t recover were actually not too niche for someone like Andrews. One of them right in the middle of the exam.

He desperately tried to remember what was said in the specific essay about it, only having briefly glanced over it, but he simply could not recall. So, he relied on his own thoughts alone, as well as the things discussed in class. Though innately he knew it was inferior to whatever he could’ve written if he remembered the arguments in that damn essay too.

Now, it was Friday and he finally reached the end of the midterms, having written his last exam only a couple of hours ago, still reeling a little. But he did slowly start to relax and even triumph already, considering how certain he was of the good job he did. Despite the slight hiccups over the week, which he mostly still tried to no longer think about, everything went as smoothly as he expected.

He gave himself a little reward by watching a movie on his laptop. He had no chance to watch any the past few weeks, he was far too busy, but now that he had time again he went right back to it.

Suddenly, the door to the room was thrown open, Lestat stomping in, clearly enraged. He threw his bag across the room, while emitting a loud roar. Armand paused the movie and removed his headphones, but Lestat was mostly quietly raging to himself now. Armand had the sense to get up and close the door, to shield unfortunate passers-by from the hurricane that was an angry Lestat.

He swore to himself he would not address Lestat first now, always letting Lestat come to him, especially if he was annoyed or angry. But his curiosity won the better of him. Thankfully, Lestat did not seem to care, forgetting his own resolve about their relationship frequently anyway. They so easily fell back into each other.

“What happened?” he tried to sound natural, not even looking at Lestat.

“My Prehistory professor threatened to fail me!” Lestat huffed out, before letting out another scream.

Armand would’ve normally snickered, but he held his natural reactions back as much as possible, not quite brave enough yet to tease Lestat.

“Why?”

“My exam wasn’t the best,” he admitted. “But the samples I submitted were immaculate, even he had to admit that. He simply hates me, so he purposefully downgraded me!”

Armand remembered the couple of days Lestat was gone on an expedition to extract these samples. They were excruciating to endure, considering they happened during their ‘friendship phase’. It was the only time Lestat ever seemed to have liked the course.

“He already told you that?” Armand enquired.

“Specifically asked me to come to his office to discuss it, pouvez-vous le croire ?”

Armand shook his head and hoped that was the right answer. Lestat simply retreated and that was the end of that interaction, at least that was what he thought at the time.

The week following the midterms were pretty easy, in comparison. His grades trickled slowly in and they were satisfying enough, but he couldn’t relax. Lestat seemed to become more and more agitated and in turn, stressed Armand out.

He knew it was due to Lestat potentially failing, and it tore him up inside that he could do nothing to help him. In addition, despite the exams being over, the piles of books on Lestat’s desk only grew. All of them were history related, though notably not about Prehistory, but instead about the Renaissance, at least the once on top. Something was going on with Lestat and he could not ask what it was.

He entered the classroom on Monday, the second week after the midterms, with utter defeat in his soul. Despite his best efforts, he knew they’d get the exams back today and his results would most likely not be the best ones. Which meant kissing the assistant job goodbye, considering he was neck to neck on all other things with Lestat and Nicolas.

He sat down at his usual spot, far away from Nicolas, but for the first time in a while Lestat actually decided to sit close to him for once. He occasionally spared some glances towards Armand, smiling almost encouragingly.

They all sat there in nervous anticipation. Most of them were concerned about whether they failed or not, while the three of them vied for the top spot.

Andrews entered the room, holding a thick pile of papers. He approached his desk at the front of the class, plugging in his laptop and making sure everything worked, before he gave out the papers.

“Congrats, Nicolas, the first 100% I’ve ever given on a midterm,” he said while laying the graded paper in front of Nicolas, sitting at a desk in the front row.

Armand wasn’t shocked, but he still seethed. Even Prof Andrews' following words did nothing to placate him.

“And as always, brilliant work from you two, Lestat and Armand,” he addressed them separately, while giving them their papers. “Though most of you have submitted stellar work. It’s a genuine joy to teach a class this dedicated.”

Armand looked at his paper, a big red 97% was written in the upper corner. There was some comfort that even when sabotaged he could still deliver above board work, but it did nothing to sway his dismay over losing this opportunity. 

Once Andrews was finished giving the exams back, he went towards his desk, opening one of the upper drawers, to retrieve something. He pulled out a book. Actually, he pulled out the book. The one on the Shakespeare essays.

“And another thing, thanks to Nicolas, this wonderful book he lent to the class today. As you know, one of the sonnets in the exam was one of the lesser discussed ones. But Nicolas remembered an essay that discussed it and it is genuinely making an argument that I have not read myself before, so I wanted to discuss it with you today.”

Andrews went on, but Armand’s gaze zeroed in on Nicolas, who did not acknowledge him back. This was in no way a coincidence. He got that essay from Armand’s notes, he knew it. Which meant, it not only confirmed Nicolas was the one who deleted them, he copied it all first, to save for himself. He stole Armand’s work and then used it to further win favours with Andrews.

As much as he seethed at his work being exploited like that, he was more overwhelmed with grief. Everything was clearly building up to Nicolas getting the job and Armand would be left out to dry. The exam was bad enough, but the book was the final nail in the coffin.

For the first time he did not even once raise his hand in the class. He went on with his day, eating his lunch alone. Monday lunches made him crave Lestat more than anything else. Their conversations were so easy during those days, in these moments of connection. No one there to distract, it was just them and it worked so well for the both of them.

In the evening he had another encounter with Lestat, the best one yet, since the fallout, though not at all because of his own actions.

“What would you do to make sure you don’t fail a class?” Lestat asked, out of the blue.

“I don’t know,” Armand responded honestly. “I guess, what I’m doing now. Studying a lot.”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” he was not looking at Armand, just vacantly staring at the wall. “What would you be willing to do, to make sure you would not fail a class?” he turned towards Armand now, his gaze piercing. “Would you do something that you would never want to do willingly?”

Armand contemplated this question without judgement or restriction. He knew Lestat was probably asking it for a real reason, but he didn’t care. Totally willing to give his real answer. He was honest with Lestat now, he had to be if he ever wished to have a deeper relationship with him again.

“Yes,” he said. “I would lie, I would obscure, whatever it takes. So long as it would benefit me.”

“So, would I,” Lestat responded with the same honesty. They were never just honest, that was not their thing. “But even if it means submitting yourself to someone else’s whims? Do it for their sake, instead of your own?”

Especially then, Armand thought.

“Yes.”

Lestat did not respond for a while. When he looked over at him, he was lying on his bed, turned towards the wall and away from Armand. So Armand kept on reading his book.

The next morning Lestat was already gone. Armand simply followed his usual routine, before heading to his classes. Most of them easing back into teaching new concepts after the midterms. Therefore, this week was the most relaxed one since the first. It helped Armand balance himself again.

When Armand arrived in the room, after his classes, Lestat was nowhere to be found, which wasn’t unusual. But once evening arrived, he was still gone. Armand simply assumed he was maybe on a hook-up, still feeling a slight pinch of pain at that thought, and would be back in the morning. 

He was not. Lestat was in fact gone for the rest of the week, nowhere to be found, even in their shared classes. His friends not having seen him either, he asked them all, even Nicki and Antoinette. No one knew where he was.

Lestat had vanished.

Chapter Text

At first Armand worried about Lestat’s sudden departure. Worried he left for good, worried he found somewhere more worthwhile to be. Somewhere without Armand.

He pondered whether to ask faculty staff if Lestat revoked his enrollment altogether, but he held off, considering they’d most likely not divulge that information to him anyway. Thankfully, Lestat did leave most of his things in the room and the longer no one came for them, the more certain he was that Lestat would eventually return.

So, he mostly ended up feeling angry. It was one thing for him to stay away and another to completely ignore all of Armand’s calls and texts during that week. Not even declining them, but simply not responding, not even leaving him on read. Lestat was truly gone, no sign of where or how he was ever communicated.

He all but had to just resign himself to accept Lestat’s absence. He would know the truth about that sooner or later. In the meantime he dutifully attended his classes, caught up with acquaintances, and obviously attended Saturday’s game night.

In the end Lestat did return without any of the preamble he might’ve aspected. There were no choir’s or churchbell’s announcing his arrival. No divinity coming down from heaven to warn of the arrival of a demon. But who really was the demon coming back? At least to Armand the answer has always been pretty clear.

He entered the room on Saturday, returning from the board game night, not prepared for what he would find. Lestat was sitting on his own bed with an open whiskey bottle, though thankfully still mostly full. 

“The prodigal son returns,” Lestat triumphed, rather ironically, raising the bottle into the air in greeting. After all, he was the one who was gone for half a week.

“I guess that would make two of us, wouldn’t it?” Armand mused. Needling Lestat, that was more like it, felt good, familiar. Where the sudden boldness came from, he did not know, maybe righteous anger over Lestat’s unannounced disappearance. “Where were you?”

“With my professor, the one I work for. We made a deal. I essentially had to be his personal servant for the past few days, but it was worth it. All is well, and I can finally exhale again,” Lestat explained way too casually.

“What deal?” he asked, even more annoyed now. How dare he be so casual about vanishing on him so suddenly and then returning like nothing had happened? Lestat’s casualness about everything had always been vexing but this time it was positively infuriating.

“Nevermind that, I don’t want to bore you with the details, just enjoy my carefree attitude, yes?” he asked gingerly, before taking a sip from the bottle. Armand eyed him with some sustain, before turning around.

“Well, you’re certainly happy enough to talk to me again, this is the longest conversation we’ve had in a while, that didn’t serve you in some way,” Armand said bitterly, putting his things away, taking notice of where exactly he placed them, just to be aware if they were messed with. Not because Lestat returned, he had done so even while Lestat was gone, and was simply too anxious about it now, before sitting down on his bed.

Lestat seemed to think on his statement for a moment, before he took another swig and then decided on something, standing up and taking the respective chairs from their desks to put them opposite one another in the middle of the room. Armand simply watched from his bed with slight amusement.

“You know what...” he suddenly said, standing between the chairs looking at Armand. “Let’s be honest with each other for once.”

And then he sat down in his own chairs, while motioning Armand to the other.

“What are you talking about?” Armand asked, but started moving to the chair regardless. “We’re honest all the time. At least we were, when we talked, before you established this ridiculous separation."

“No, we weren't and you know it. Let’s drink and lay it all out. No judgement, for once. First I ask a question, you answer and then the reverse, again and again. You drink, right?” Lestat asked nervously, like he didn’t see Armand drink during the festival. Didn’t experience a drunk Armand futilely kissing him.

“Where is this coming from suddenly? You didn’t want to talk at all and now you want to play question and answer games?” Armand asked astounded, though he was certainly intrigued.

“Yes, it’s a game, if you want it to be,” Lestat once again raised one hand to motion to the chair, while holding up the whiskey with the other one. “Drink?”

Armand considered the proposal for a while. He instinctively wanted to say no, mostly out of the current spite he felt for Lestat, but he realised it would give him everything he wanted. Finally, an inside into everything Lestat, his intentions, his relationships, anything related to Armand.

Armand sat down.

“Yeah, I drink.”

“Good,” Lestat took another sip before handing the bottle over. Armand took it and immediately drank from it, raising it high, not breaking eye contact with Lestat.

Lestat watched him for a moment, before he stopped him.

“Slow down, we want to be drunk enough to be honest, not pass out or forget this.”

Armand lowered the bottle, coughing a bit from the stronger than expected contents, and put it to the side, but not out of reach.

“Okay, start. What do you want to know?” Armand asked, not caring that neither one of them could even feel the effects of the alcohol yet. It was a flimsy excuse anyway, just in case they regretted it in the end.

Lestat took a deep breath, though he didn’t stop looking at Armand.

“Have you been following me? You know in the beginning, before we became friends?” the question caught Armand off guard, unsure how Lestat could’ve known about that and if he did, why he never brought it up before. Probably because Armand would’ve denied it until now, he assumed.

“Yes,” the answer was out before Armand realised it. Apparently, the alcohol wasn’t needed.

“I knew it!”

“You said no judgement! And it was less following and more… observing, I guess.”

“Of course… apologies, no judgement,” though he rolled his eyes. “So, what do you want to know then?”

“Did you like it? You noticed I was watching you and didn’t stop me, did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, of course I did. I told you, I never disliked you and the attention was frankly nice,” the lack of hesitance to his answer pleased Armand immensely. His next question was preceded by some hesitation. “You never hooked up with Leo, right?”

“That again?” Armand was so over this topic by now, he could only groan. “No, Lestat, I never hooked up with the guy, I barely remember him. Congrats, you set me up with someone entirely forgettable.”

“Sorry, I just had to ask,” Lestat pouted. “Were you really mad when you found out I fucked Nicki? You weren’t playing it up?” this question was almost laughable but Armand lacked the resolve to question it by now. Or object to the double question, Lestat not wasting time before already breaking his own rules.

“Obviously,” he simply answered. Armand picked up the whiskey bottle again and took one smaller sip before handing it to the other man. Lestat simply dropped it off on his desk behind him, knowing this wasn’t really needed to get them talking.

He turned back to Armand.

“Because you were jealous,” it was more a statement than a question.

“Yes, but it’s my turn now,” he finally realised Lestat was not following the rules through the haze of the situation. Lestat ignored him.

“Jealous of me or him?” Armand actually laughed at that.

“Do you really have to ask? I thought trying to kiss you made that clear.”

“I guess,” although Lestat did not show how that information affected him, both of their answers clipped. It was refreshing to be direct for once, to be honest and precise in a way they never allowed before. “Your question?”

“Okay, but I get two now as well,” ignoring Lestat asked a few more than two questions.

Lestat simply shrugged in light agreement.

“Did you fuck him to make me jealous?” Lestat sucked on his teeth for a moment, before answering, clearly struggling with how to approach the question.

“No, not at first, it just happened,” Armand felt a little crushed. “But I guess I kind of did it for you. I thought, if I asked him again to drop the job thing afterwards, he might be more inclined.”

“God, why?” Armand was flabbergasted. 

“Is that your second question?”

Armand almost said yes, but then thought about it for a second, quickly realising he actually wanted to move on from the whole Nicki debacle. It didn’t matter anymore. Nicki didn’t matter anymore, not to what was there between them. This was about them.

“No… do you hate me now?” there was a desperation in his voice he would normally feel ashamed of, but in this moment, considering the honesty that preceded it, he did not care.

“No, I think I should, you have barely given me a reason not to, I think there’s not a moment you haven’t tried to manipulate me in some way. But I don’t think I can hate you even now, Armand. But it’s okay, because you could never hate me either, right?” the confidence in Lestat’s response was almost shattering. His disagreement was shattering too.

“Yes, I think I can,” he said, even though Lestat was right, in some way. “It’s just that I can never not love you. It doesn’t matter whether I hate you, because I will always love you just a little more.”

Not in a million years could he ever not love Lestat and he had just as much reason to purely hate him as Lestat did. It felt like Lestat had everything Armand ever craved to possess, but rather than turn him envious, it transformed into pure desire, no matter what happened and might happen between them. Because they both had hurt each other immensely, both on accident and on purpose. Lestat was right when he rejected him, maybe they were too fucked for this. For each other.

But really why? What reason did Lestat have to think he too was a mess, as he put it? In Armand’s case it was pretty clear, considering the whole stalking, being obsessive, vengefully slapping someone’s paramour tendencies he had. 

But Lestat? He was perfect. That was why Armand fell in love with him after all. Or were the cracks in the façade the real reason for his affection? The fact that he could tell there was something underneath it all, something Lestat was trying to hide. Because he was clearly hiding something, and his MIA stunt was just the most obvious of the clues, but certainly not the first one. At this point Armand could no longer tell what the initial pull was. Maybe just his looks after all.

However, he clearly needed to know what Lestat thought was the reason he could not be with Armand, but first he needed to know what he was doing this for in the first place.

“Do you love me?”

“Of course, I do. I loved you before I even really knew you. Not that I know you that much more now. You certainly had no tendencies to share any information voluntarily before tonight. I think that's part of the reason I couldn’t be with you when you wanted me to.”

“I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you everything, but you have to tell me too,” Armand did not care for the desperation in his plea, considering the pain he spotted in Lestat’s expression in return.

“You know me, Armand. You’re the mystery here, not me,” he said, a little dejected, not looking at Armand anymore.

“No, I only know the beautiful version of you. But we’ve both clearly been through some stuff, so let’s just tell each other. What made each of us the way we are, what fucked us up in the first place. Because something fucked you up, didn’t it?”

Lestat looked at him like he was looking at a jigsaw puzzle that missed a piece. Like a painting you saw every day, but today something unnameable was different about it. Something was askew.

“You’ll really tell me?”

Armand nodded. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me first.”

The suggestion was a reassurance to know more about Lestat, who he was at his core, before Armand’s own recountings might completely scare him away. Also a small nudge for Lestat to start and all of it was gladly enough to spurt him on.

“I was supposed to come here seven years ago,” Lestat started and Armand listened with the most apt attention. 

“I applied in secret, because my father would’ve never allowed it. He wanted us all, the entire family, to stay at the estate and take care of it, it was the only thing we still had left from our families’ aristocratic roots. After I finished school I was to remain at the property for the rest of my days. But I wanted to study, wanted to see the world, really. The only reason I even got as far as I did with the plan was because my mother helped me,” Lestat took a breather, he clearly wanted to reach back for the bottle again, but was halted by Armand’s small shake of his head. He simply continued.

“She found the acceptance letter when it arrived in the mail, before my father could, and she swore to protect me. She was always good to me, even though she was distant. She had her own issues going on, but she let me indulge on occasion. Once she found me playing on an old guitar I had found in the attic. But instead of taking it away, like I feared she would, she simply warned me to never show it to anyone and only practise in the attic,” Armand smiled at that.

“One day my father found it up there and realised someone had been using it, so he simply destroyed it. She said nothing and I never blamed her for it, because neither did I. There was only so much she could do to protect me,” it was clear Lestat held a great deal of affection for his mother and it made Armand briefly jealous he never got to experience something like that.

“Well, after I got the acceptance, I sneaked out of the house with a single piece of luggage and arrived at the airport waiting for my flight to the US, ready to attend college, thinking I was for once free when my father and brothers came to take me back home. I still do not know how they found out where I was, they never told me, I only know it wasn’t my mother who told them. It’s not that there was no possibility she would have done that, but she would’ve told me if she did,” Lestat paused again. 

It was clear the memories still affected him deeply. Stirring up pain deep inside him, that made it hard to remember these events.

“Then what?” Armand prompted, when it was clear Lestat would say no more.

“No, I'll tell you the rest, but first you have to tell me something back. I will not have you back out from telling your side once I’m done.”

Armand guessed that was fair and he could already see where the rest of Lestat's story was probably going. Still, he needed to hear it from him, but it seemed it was Armand’s time to be brave.

“Alright… I lived in foster homes my entire childhood. I got moved around so much, if anyone knew where I was initially from I couldn’t ask them by the time I was old enough. When I was thirteen a family from South London took me in, they had children of their own, and had signed up with the fostering program before that. I think they wanted to decline when they were contacted about me, but they still met me and they probably felt bad enough for my situation to take me in. I ended up sharing a room with one of their sons and they were good to me, but it was always clear they didn’t consider me one of their children,” he tried not to show his disappointment while recounting that part of his life.

“We moved out of the city and into the northern countryside when I was fifteen, so I switched schools. That’s where I met my guardian, I mentioned him?”

“Once or twice, mostly in passing,” Lestat responded, with a satisfied look on his face. “But enough for me to know this is the actually interesting part.”

Armand suppressed the anger over Lestat's flippantness. He should be used to it by now.

“Yeah, well, he was my teacher, before he adopted me.”

Lestat laughed at that. “Do all British people live the plot of a Roald Dahl book? Or is it just an ironic happenstance in this case.”

“Really? The French aristocrat is talking about irony right now?”

Lestat made a silent hand gesture for Armand to go on, while acknowledging his lack of criticising rights.

“He was a good teacher, he liked all his students, went above and beyond for every single one. But I could quickly tell that I became his favourite. As you know I have a hard time warming up to people, so I was alone on every break until one day he asked me to stay after class. Everyone, including myself, thought I might be in trouble for something. It turned out he realised I was always alone, but he didn’t question me about it like some of the other teachers had, didn’t prompt me to put myself out there. He simply asked if I wanted to stay with him for lunch break. So I did. From then on I spent every lunch break with him and we got to know each other. Obviously, he knew about my foster situation and he asked me how I liked it and I described it to him like I just did to you. Honestly, I just liked that he treated me like an equal at the time. Everybody else was always pitying me, but not him. He asked me about my interests. Every question I ever got asked was for a purpose, to find an answer to what’s wrong with me or how to fix me. He simply asked because he wanted to know for himself, not for my sake.”

“Sounds like a nice guy,” Lestat speculated.
“He was,” Armand reminisced. “So, when he asked me if I would want to get adopted by him, I said yes without hesitation. The way he asked was just… he wanted to do it for himself, not me, I knew it, I could sense it. He wanted to have me around as much as possible for his enjoyment of me, not because he felt bad or did me a favour. He did himself a favour.”

“You liked him because he adopted you for… selfish reasons?” Lestat was predictably bewildered.

“No one had ever dared to be selfish with me. When people never take anything from you it can feel like you have nothing to offer to them. Like there isn’t anything about you worth taking. Him liking me selfishly, meant someone liked me for me for once,” Armand tried to clarify as best as he could.

At that, Lestat tilted his head in understanding, in relating. Armand continued.

“So, he adopted me. I moved into his home and my foster family let me go, with equal amounts of sadness and relief. And I lived with him and those were the best two years of my life,” Armand hoped that was enough to get the rest of Lestat’s story, before he had to explain the heavier parts of his tale. “You gave me half of your story, now I gave you half of mine. It’s your turn again.”

Lestat's eyes narrowed, he looked like he was about to protest, but Armand only hardened his gaze in return, and they existed in a tense stalemate for a few silent seconds. Lestat ultimately conceded.

“Alright…” Lestat started, taking a short break, looking down, before directly looking into Armand’s eyes. “Once we arrived back at the estate, they beat the shit out of me.”
Armand’s eyebrows shot up at the bluntness of Lestat’s statement. It seemed they both saved the hard parts for last.

“They kept me locked in my room, only letting me out to take care of the house or to hunt. I essentially became their slave for the next few years. We had no steady income, no one worked, so my father ultimately had to sell a plot of the surrounding land we still owned. It was kind of ridiculous, really, to this day the manor is full of stuff you could sell for a fortune, but he could not bear to part with any of it,” Lestat said derisively, before composing himself.

“Nowadays I’m secretly glad for that, I don’t know if I could stand to see the manor missing even one painting. Still, my father was enraged over the sacrifice of land he did make and who else to take it out on but me? He beat me so bad I passed out and couldn’t go to dinner that evening and you know the funny part about that?”
Armand couldn’t imagine anything being funny about the things Lestat was telling him. It sounded like a horrible situation and here he thought he went through a lot. Meanwhile, Lestat lived an actual nightmare and the entire time Armand thought he was a pampered rich boy.

“It actually saved my life,” Lestat chuckled, now Armand was a little more intrigued than horrified again. 

“The next morning, I woke up in the hospital, I didn’t know how, I couldn’t remember anything after I passed out in my room. The police came in and informed me my father and brothers passed away, while my mother was comatose and in critical condition. They didn’t quite know what happened, but they suspected it was something in the food, considering I was the only one who didn’t eat anything that day. For a moment I feared they would suspect I did something, but considering I was lying in a hospital bed with three broken ribs and a fractured jaw, I was not assumed to be able to have done it. I obviously hadn’t. I would not be surprised if they accidentally poisoned themselves,” Lestat said the last sentence in a hurry, breaking eye contact for the first time, before composing himself, looking at Armand again.

“And I did not care either. I was immediately made to be in charge of the estate, while my mother was still incapacitated. That was my only concern, my mother’s health was doing poorly, so I stayed, for her to get better or die, but I couldn’t leave her like that. Around this time was when I met Antoinette, we became friends because she was on a semester abroad from this college, which I planned to attend, though I was starting to give up on it. Just when I resigned myself to apply for a local school, so I could stay in France, my mother started to get better. I was overjoyed and honestly, it ended up making me want to stay more, to make sure she fully recovered. In the end, she was the one who actually urged me to leave, it was one of the very first things she said to me! ‘Leave Lestat, you’ve been given a new chance, you have to take it,’ she said to me. So, I did. I sold some more plots, unlike my father I did not care for the land at all, as long as my mother could live in the estate, to have enough money for myself and my mother and then I left. And now I’m here. With you. And you owe me the rest of your story,” Lestat finished, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, a little too self-satisfied considering everything he just laid out.

It was a lot to take in. Armand had so many follow up questions. How was his mother now? Was he purely relieved his father and brothers were dead or did he feel at least a little remorse? How did he move on from all these events so smoothly? But the questions could wait, Lestat was right that it was Armand’s turn now.

“Alright,” Armand responded, before he gathered himself to continue. “As I said, I lived with my guardian in his household. It was essentially a mansion in the countryside, very remote. He was the sole inheritor of a large fortune, from a baron I think, a close friend of his, with no children of his own to give it to. So, he entrusted his closest friend with one of his estates and all of his money, lest they simply fall into the hands of the next title holder, who would inherit the actual land. Which, of course, meant my guardian did not need a job, he taught out of passion and love. And now that he had me, I became his passion. He quit the teaching job and educated me privately, to make sure I was taught in the most immaculate way. Everything from the things you learn in standard school classes to astronomy, philosophy, architecture, all the works. But his two true passions were art and legislation. He painted me a lot and taught me how to paint too, I took wonderfully to it, as well. ‘A face like yours is meant for artwork’ he once said.”

Lestat smiled at that.

“What?” Armand asked, suddenly insecure.

“No, nothing. If anything, I agree with him. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a painting before that looked eerily like you,” Lestat charmed, which only made Armand’s cheeks grow hotter. “But all of this sounds so nice. The way you avoided talking about him, I thought something bad had happened and now you have bad blood with him or something.”

“I’m getting to it. But I can say, none of the bad things are his fault,” Armand continued, though his last reassurance faltered a bit, but he tried to not let that show. “As I said, his second passion was legislation. He taught me everything he knew, which was quite a lot. But mostly he made sure I was well versed in legalese and the Corpus Juris Civilis which he considered one of the finest legal texts. It was rather silly, really, an indulgence on his part. But he certainly made sure I was perfectly prepared for actual law school.”

Armand paused, before getting to the final part of his tale. He tried to calm himself, before continuing.

“Well, one day a service worker visited us, which is pretty standard for both adoptions and home education. He asked me questions, he asked my ma—“Armand paused shortly. 

“My guardian questions and then he left again, it was pretty normal I thought, went well. A couple of days later, he visited again, with another service worker in tow. Another round of questions, they even wanted to search our house. My guardian obviously denied them. Well, they came back with the police and a search warrant, and everything that happened then was insane. They took me away, despite my protest. I told them I wanted to be with him, that everything was good, that he took care of me, that all they promised me my entire life was a loving home and now I had one and they were taking it away. That I was essentially an adult, only a few months away from turning eighteen, at the time, and they could not dictate who I could spend time with. No one listened. I got moved from psychologist to psychologist questioning me about abuse, mostly. Needless to say, they didn’t listen. I kind of had a breakdown and just retreated for a few months. My last psychologist set me up in some sort of group home, with other young men that just left foster homes and had no support system left. That’s where I lived before I came here.”

“Once I actually recovered enough to think about my future again, I had to relearn a lot of stuff to pass the A-levels. Meanwhile, I searched for my guardian again, now that I was of age and no one could keep me from him anymore. I’m pretty sure he was not allowed to visit me, otherwise he would’ve. But I never found him. I passed my A-Levels and then I applied to every renowned college and university with an English program that offered scholarships. I still had some money from him, in a secret account, but not enough to afford tuition and I needed to save it anyway. So, I got accepted here, got my scholarship and I try to not think about what happened too often. This is probably the first time I remembered it coherently since it happened.”

Lestat was silent for a second, contemplative even.

“Why do you think they took you away from him? There must’ve been some reason?” Lestat questioned.
“I assume that the first worker who questioned us thought we were too close. That he was less of a father to me and more of a friend. And I guess, in a way, he was right. But he was wrong that it harmed me. Utterly wrong… I think,” the assertion felt too practiced by now to actually be the truth, which prompted the delayed admission. Where it came from he wasn’t sure about.

“And what is the reason you are not studying pre-law right now?” Lestat asked a little more cheekily. Armand was glad for the lighter tone the conversation was taking.

“Oh, yeah that bit,” Armand laughed. “Honestly? I had no faith or interest in law. It completely bored me. I had an underlying contempt for law and legal institutions and governmental institutions that was so total that I did not even understand it myself. I would’ve done it purely for him. But I loved Shakespeare utterly, no outside opinion ever influenced that. Well, besides your arguments in class nowadays.”

“You flatter me. This love you certainly have, even without me,” Lestat said with an indescribable fondness to his tone. “ Merde , we both went through some stuff. We both lost things and people.”

“Yes, we did, Lestat,” Armand said. “You were abused and I was abandoned.”

“Don’t fool yourself, we both were abused and abandoned. We’re both fucked up in a way, that should never be combined.”

“I hate to admit it, but you’re right, we both have too many things that we have not come to terms with yet. Neither one of us is ready for a serious relationship, especially not with each other,” now that he had all the facts straight, laid out so clearly, he sadly had to agree with Lestat’s initial assessment, as much as it pained him.

“But I think we can be friends, right?” Lestat asked hopefully.

“If we’re careful about it, yes, most likely,” Armand responded truthfully, the way they practised so far.

They looked at one another now, finally fully understanding each other and where their relationship was at. A peaceful platonic coexistence. This was good, this was healthy. This was enough.

Then Lestat suddenly kissed him. He moved over to Armand, closing the already small distance between them. Their lips clashed in a wave of undiscussed emotion. 

Armand could not believe it. Lestat was kissing him. Lestat initiated a kiss between them. Lestat wanted to kiss him! Was kissing him! Right then! This was better than good and healthy, this was perfection!

The kiss was intense from the moment it started, their mouths quickly opened and their tongues met in a feverous exchange. It was like floating on cloud nine, the feelings between them so intense it was like flying. They were suspended together in this moment of pure lust, only fuelled by their genuine affection for one another. Their rhythm was steady but fueled by the sensation of their tongues moving together.

While kissing like that, only having taken small breaks to catch their breaths, just to come back together again, Lestat started to move them up. Armand was still sitting in his chair, while Lestat was kind of awkwardly crouched before him, and it seemed to have become a little too uncomfortable for him now. Together they moved, not daring to separate their faces away from one another, even if they had to interrupt the make-out itself for a bit.

Once they were stood up, Lestat grabbed Armand by his waist, and turned them towards his bed, Armand having to walk a few steps backwards until the back of his legs touched the bedframe. Both of them were so giddy by what was finally happening, what would happen soon, they giggled into each other's mouths, before Lestat refastened his hands onto Armand’s back, while leaning him down to lie on the mattress.

After some adjusting, which sadly meant they each had to separate their bodies from the other further than a couple of inches, they finally laid on the mattress, Armand on his back, with Lestat once again leaning over him. In this new position Armand was completely free to move his hands all over Lestat’s chest and back, exploring every inch of his torso, mapping out every crease and crevice.

Lestat however seemed content with simply holding Armand’s head in both his hands, occasionally raking one of them through Armand’s long, dark curls, the sensation making Armand shudder with pleasure.

They laid down together for a while, simply kissing and touching each other, but they slowly accelerated, nothing was holding them back now that they finally indulged their mutual attraction. Armand merely existed in a state of unexpected euphoria.

Lestat was kissing him. Lestat wanted him. Despite everything that happened between them, maybe partially because of it, even before it all happened, Lestat wanted him.

Forgotten were all their past experiences, they only existed in the now.

Armand laid under Lestat, not wanting to break the contact between their lips, but he knew it was impossible if he wanted to further the situation. So, he separated their mouths, and leaned up, forcing Lestat on his hinges above Armand’s hips, to remove his hoodie and undershirt in one swoop. Once his torso was bare, he saw Lestat leaning over him, already unbuttoning his shirt. He started to help, while also resuming their make out, once in a while, only breaking to unbutton the shirt faster.

Once they were both finally shirtless, they impatiently started rutting their still clothed crotches together, searching for friction. In their hurried ministrations, he could feel Lestat’s hardened length through his trousers, only encouraging his motions. Both of them emitted moans into each other’s now very open mouths, before Lestat began to kiss down Armand’s neck, while holding onto his back, before slowly moving his hands to grope at Armand’s ass. Armand had a moment of unwanted clarity at that move.

“Should we? We both drank…” he questioned.

“Do you feel drunk?” Lestat asked, turning his head looking up at him, his eyes blown wide, before turning back and slightly biting his shoulder.

“Not really. You?” Armand giggled at the gesture.

“No, just on you,” it was an awful line, but then Lestat moved his head away from Armand’s shoulder and kissed him again, starting to unbutton his trousers, so what did it matter.

Once they were rid of almost all of their clothes, only in their underwear, rutting together for a few moments more, now with a lot more sensation than before, Lestat reached over to his drawer, while still perched above Armand’s prone form. He pulled out a bottle of lube from the top drawer, depositing it on the bed, before leaning down to reach into his bag leaning on the bed frame to pull out a condom.

Armand froze. And Lestat noticed.

“Do you not want to?”

“I do. Only… It’s been a while,” Armand said.

It was kind of a white lie. He never had actual penetrative sex before. Or a lot of other types of sex in general. He had his close experiences with his guardian, but they weren’t strictly sexual and he did not want to disclose any of that to Lestat at this moment.

And it was also not like he had no actual sexual experiences after that time, no, he was not a virgin. He did exchange a handjob behind a bar with some guy once, shortly after graduating, as a little reward to himself.

Then there was this one girl he met in a supermarket of all places; they went on a couple of dates a few weeks before he left for America. He went down on her on the second date, refused to let her touch him back and then ghosted her.

Fleeting moments of intimacy, with people he did not care for. Which meant, this was long untreaded ground for him.

“Don’t worry,” Lestat said, sensing Armand’s uncertainty. “Let me handle it. Say if anything feels off.”

Then he kissed Armand again, hard and deep, while removing both their underpants, leaving them completely bare now. Armand could only indulge in Lestat administrations, still slightly off guard that this was actually happening. Lestat kissed him for a little longer, while Armand now relaxed a bit more back into the bed. Let Lestat take the lead, it was good like that.

Lestat slowly moved down along Armand’s body, peppering kisses over his chest. He felt electrified by it, simply watching Lestat, while feeling his long hair tickling his skin and the soft kisses caressing as he moved.

Once he was level with his crotch, Lestat looked up.

“Can I?” the question felt almost inappropriately innocent at that moment.

“Yes,” Armand basically gasped.

Lestat held his cock steady, before simply taking him into his mouth. The sensation of it was indescribably pleasurable. Armand closed his eyes and threw his head back, the view of it too intense already.

He wanted to touch Lestat, feel the movement of his head with his hands, but he did not dare. Let Lestat lead like he said he wanted to. In the middle of it all he heard the sound of a bottle unclasping, but simply let himself enjoy the sensations as they came.

One of Lestat's hands was at his hip, stroking Armand’s skin in sensuous little movements. He tried to concentrate on that over Lestat’s more intense administrations of his mouth moving up and down on him. Lestat also started to occasionally gasp a little too now, while taking him more deeply into his throat now, which only intensified things, making it harder to hold back. But he held off on finishing, wanting to go all the way, considering this might be the only chance he got to do this with Lestat.

He anticipated Lestat’s other hand to move in between his legs soon, to prepare him, even spreading his legs a little to give him room, but the sensation did not come. He finally opened his eyes again, just to see if anything was wrong.

The first thing that caught his attention was the movement of  Lestat’s mouth on his cock, a slightly distracting view, Lestat’s eyes closed in pleasure as he bopped his head, clearly lost in his movements, before Armand realised that instead of having his right hand anywhere near him, Lestat was reaching back, clearly in the middle of preparing himself. Armand was first surprised and then slightly mortified.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding more shocked than he intended, simply too astounded at the situation.

Lestat immediately pulled his mouth off him, though he did not take his hand away from himself.

“You said it’s been a while,” he let out another gasp at his own ministrations. That they were even talking like that with Lestat’s fingers still buried inside himself felt a little absurd. 

“I thought topping would be an easier reintroduction,” Lestat said, sitting back, finally pulling his hand in front of him and resettling it on his thigh, some of his fingers glistening wetly. 

“I was too presumptuous, wasn’t I? We don’t have to do anything else or further, if you don’t want to.”

“No, I just… I never topped. I didn’t know I could,” he said a bit awkwardly.

But ultimately, it was a true statement. He often thought about the potential of going all the way, fantasised about all the different varieties, but when it came to reality, he felt his role was predetermined.

“I mean, you could right now,” Lestat suggested. “If you want to.”

Armand thought about it for a moment. It always felt implied he was to be the one on the receiving end of all pleasure. Still, the want for control clung to him. It enticed him, even if he never dwelled on that.

“Come here,” he said to Lestat, while taking his hand and leading him back up from between his legs to Lestat straddling him once again. Lestat only smiled and went along. Armand grabbed the condom still lying on the bed, took it out of its packaging and then put it on, rolling it down until it was completely covering his length.

Careful they arranged themselves, facing each other, Lestat perched above Armand, positioning himself while holding Armand’s cock steady. He slowly lowered himself onto it, both of them moaning in unison at the sensation. Coming together like that was truly unthinkable to Armand just an hour ago and now it was happening in such a simple, straightforward way.

Once Lestat was fully seated, they paused for a moment, Armand completely overwhelmed at the sensation of tightness around him. Never had he felt this kind of pleasure and it was so utterly right, so utterly fulfilling, like nothing else before. Lestat above him simply closed his eyes in complete bliss, only reaffirming his own reaction.

This feeling doubled once Lestat started to actually move, first bracing his hands on Armand’s shoulders, grinding his hips, while adjusting to the sensation, before simply gripping at the bedding below. He lowered his torso down along Armand’s, while he motioned his hips in a lazy, but slowly increasing roll now. And all Armand could do in that moment was to hold onto him, one hand on his hip, while the other one sneaked around his back holding him close against himself. They were no longer kissing, but instead breathing and moaning into each other’s necks. It felt like a million stars exploded within him at every new and unique experience. Every movement from Lestat was drawing out more and more pleasure.

And the best part was that he was discovering it with Lestat, who was so close to him, so lost in his own euphoria, while still making sure to whisper into Armand’s ear about how good it felt and how wonderful Armand was and how beautiful he looked, when he gazed down at him earlier.

“Fuck, I love you, Armand,” Lestat finally huffed and it felt like a dam broke in Armand.

He held onto Lestat’s back, gathered his strength and then flipped them over. Lestat was shocked by the sudden rolling motion, laughing a little. Then he simply continued moaning, when Armand hoisted up his legs, entered him again after a short separation and started pumping into him now. Armand lost more and more control, but the more intense his actions became, the louder Lestat moans got in return, clearly enjoying himself and everything Armand was doing. 

The way Lestat was clawing at the bedding and his back, Armand was sure he must be pressing against his prostate pretty consistently now, which only increased his vigour, trying to elicit louder and louder noises from Lestat.

All the while, Armand was whispering “I love you, I love you, I love you,” over and over into Lestat’s neck, not even sure if the other man heard him over his own, significantly louder, sounds. 

The feeling of bending over and covering Lestat like this, being in full control now, holding and hoisting Lestat’s hips just right for himself, being the source of his gratification was utterly intoxicating. He simply got lost in this entirely new sensation of taking, and giving, and sharing this enjoyment, which he had yearned for, for so long.

The rougher treatment, the quickening of his thrusts, as enjoyable as it all was, also meant neither of them would last much longer. He knew they were both nearing the end, so reached down between them and took hold of Lestat’s cock, quickly moving his hand with the same urgency as his hips.

It did not take long until they both went over the edge, Armand first, emptying himself into the condom, before he sped up the motion of his hand, making Lestat quickly follow him over, considering the combination of sensations and built-up feelings. Once they were both finished, they sacked into the mattress together and returned to kissing each other, though rather uncoordinated and almost lazily now. They simply basked in the afterglow of the orgasm for a bit, Armand relaxedly sprawled on Lestat’s own prone form. 

After, a little while, urged on by increasing overstimulation, Armand slipped out of Lestat, both of them wincing at the sensation of it, and turned over to lie down next to him. Quickly he disposed of the condom into the bin next to the bed, before reaching over to the night stand for a couple of tissues that were luckily deposited on it, handing one to Lestat so he could quickly clean himself too.

Once they finished their very perfunctory clean up and threw the tissues in the same rubbish bin, they simply laid there in silence.

They both knew this was a mistake. Any moment now one of them would speak up about it, the air was tense with it. They would just agree they should be nothing more than the most platonic of friends or maybe never be alone in the same room again. One of them had to say this, so they could simply chalk it up to a one-time mistake and then move on, like it never happened.

At the same time, nothing had felt as good as this had. And he wanted it for so long, talked it up in his own head, part of him was sure the reality could not compare and now it actually exceeded his wildest fantasies. How could he deal with this conundrum? This contradiction of what he knew and what he felt? How was he to proceed?

Armand finally dared to look over at Lestat, knowing he was delaying the inevitable, only to find the man already staring at him with the brightest, most adoring look on his face, and suddenly it was like it was not a decision at all, but destiny. 

They simply gazed at each other in the most beautiful moment of mutually agreed upon ignorance about everything they decided before. This was love and desire, and everything else was simply shadowed by its immensity.

“I love you,” Armand simply stated. They said it before of course, but never like this. The other times it was simply a statement of fact, Armand loved Lestat, that was known to both of them, but this was a straight confession. Not even hazed by lust.

“I love you, too,” Lestat responded like it wasn’t the first time he talked to Armand like this. Like he told Armand that he loved him a thousand times before and he would a thousand times in the future. Then he smiled, big and bright.

“So, how did you like topping?” Lestat asked. Armand laughed and covered his face with his hands in slight embarrassment. The way his lust overtook him was slightly mortifying to him. Then he looked back at Lestat, probably wearing a similar smile now.

“The better question is how do you like bottoming, because I’m never doing this any other way now. This was amazing,” Armand said in astounded wonder.

Lestat laughed in turn and then moved to kiss him again. 

“Whatever you want, as long as I get to be with you,” Lestat simply whispered against his lips, before resuming the kiss.

Armand did not need to tell him he felt the same way. Instinctually, they both knew it to be true, even without the words.

Chapter Text

Armand woke up in a bed that wasn’t his own with his arms wrapped around Lestat’s body hugging him close from behind. His face was buried in Lestat’s long hair, their skin touching head to toe, only having put their underwear back on before falling asleep together the previous night.

When he thought falling asleep next to Lestat was an amazing experience, nothing could’ve prepared him for how good it would feel to wake up holding Lestat in his arms while lying in his bed.

No matter their long conversation the night before and how unfit it made them for a relationship this intense with each other, after all the horrible things that have happened to them, in this moment it felt utterly perfect; utterly fulfilling. Nothing that felt this natural could ever be wrong.

In fact, nothing in Armand’s life had ever felt this pure, this undilutedly beautiful and just immensely correct. Like he was made simply to hold Lestat, preferably for the rest of time.

For a split moment an uncomfortable memory came to his mind. Another time he was lying in someone else’s bed thinking it felt right much like his recent dream.

The immediate nausea he experienced just at the thought made him deeply doubt that now. But he pushed it away, out of his mind again, instead reveling in his current contentment burying his face deeper into Lestat’s golden hair. Fantasised about all the wonderful things they could do together, considering it was a Sunday, no classes for either of them to obstruct their time together.

Sadly, a waking Lestat put an end to those fantasies. Armand was still moving his face just to feel Lestat’s hair grazing it when said man woke up a little perplexed.

“What are you doing?” he asked groggily, but slightly amused at Armand snuggling his face into his messy hair, while Armand simply tightened his hold on him.

“Only wanting to feel you close,” he responded, carelessly. 

Lestat indulged him for a little longer, before freeing himself from Armand’s tight embrace and turning around, facing him again. God, Armand would never tire of gazing at this beautiful face. Lestat only smiled, absolutely radiant, and immediately moved to kiss him, but Armand put a hand up before he could make contact.

“Morning breath,” he simply stated to which Lestat responded with a rueful expression clearly not even having contemplated that.

So, he settled on moving Armand over forcing him to lie back while he put a hand on the side of Armand’s face, simply to look down on him instead. Something moved in his expression, something completely unreadable to Armand, he could not in any way guess what Lestat was feeling in this moment, except that it must’ve been overwhelmingly beautiful, instantly calming his features.

“Cherub,” he said softly before he carded his hand through Armand’s unruly curls.

Armand did not know what to say to that. It had been a long time since someone compared him to an angel and he never enjoyed it before, although he found humour in it in this moment with Lestat smiling down at him so sincerely.

He playfully pushed him off with a shove to his chest. Lestat fell back onto the mattress next to him, still angling his body towards Armand, flinging one of his arms over Armand’s stomach while slotting his face against the side of Armand’s neck.

“What do you want to do today?” Armand asked, slightly moving away to turn his head to look Lestat in the face.

Lestat contemplated the words for a moment then slowly pressed his crotch against Armand’s side. He raised his eyebrows in return.

“Surely not all day?” Armand joked.

“What? Can’t keep up, old man?” a feral smile overtook Lestat’s face.

“You’re older than me,” he deadpanned, before he finally made them get up.

Getting out of bed on a Sunday was always unpleasant but regardless of the discomfort, Armand quickly hurried the both of them to go to the washroom for a shower and to brush their teeth. They were quite lucky the room was almost empty, only one student in there, already finishing up and leaving shortly after they entered and arranged their showering products.

They entered their respective shower stalls, Armand almost wanted to suggest they should share one considering the now empty room, but knew better as someone new could enter at any moment. They simply showered in stalls next to each other in complete silence now.

Once finished they quickly dried themselves and put on some shirts and joggers, both of their hair still wet they finally stood next to each other at the sink brushing their teeth in unison.

At one point they made eye contact in the mirror which for the first time broke the tension that had built between them since the previous night.

The dam broke and they both giggled wildly, toothbrushes still in their mouths slightly muffling their sounds. The sudden realisation that this was in fact real flooded them at the same time, making the moment one of true, euphoric relief.

This was actually happening and the world did not collapse around them. No one there to tell them how fucked up this situation was, no magic word calling down telling them that this was wrong and they needed to stop. They were alright. They would be alright.

Once they got back to the room Lestat finally got that kiss he wanted. The door was barely closed, when Lestat turned Armand around and claimed his mouth in the middle of the room. Slow and deep, no hurry, no intention of going further. Just a show of deep affection and possession.

After the kiss broke Lestat simply gave him a sly smile before they started to put on their actual clothes for the day, while still unsure of what the boundaries between them were. They got dressed in an unhurried manner, mostly in silence, besides Armand throwing out a little ‘sorry’ when he saw Lestat wince while bending over to put on his trousers, though he knew he did not actually sound all too sorry. Lestat simply rolled his eyes at him in response before looking a little satisfied.

Once they were dressed they basically fell back into each other’s arms, just holding one another, clearly just wanting to stay in this peaceful harmony knowing any wrong word might make it collapse at any second. 

Lestat turned his head to kiss the side of Armand’s neck a few times before he started talking.

“I think we should discuss this… what’s happening between us,” Lestat whispered into his skin and Armand froze. Lestat drew away from his neck to look Armand in the eyes, taking his head in his hands before he quickly continued.

“This is not a break-up line, don’t even consider that possibility, mon cher . We only have to clarify what we are now,” Lestat said and Armand relaxed again, before he truly looked at Lestat, his face portraying nothing but sincerity.

“Okay, but I need a coffee first, before we discuss anything further,” Armand finally agreed.

“Yes, definitely," Lestat responded cheerfully, while clasping Armand’s arms between both hands.

Then he turned, before sneaking his right hand down Armand’s left arm, clasping their hands together to lead Armand out the door and across campus towards the café. Armand simply let him, enjoying Lestat taking charge again, at least for a little while.

Hand in hand they strolled across campus, Lestat occasionally twisting some of Armand's rings between his fingers in slight amusement, until they arrived at their destination. It was clear that neither one of them was interested in hiding whatever they were now, entering the café together without letting go of each other until they had to.

While Lestat got their coffee Armand sat down at their usual corner table finally having some time to update his friends on what was going on. He opened their group chat despite fearing potential, if very understandable, pushback.

A: Hey can I tell you smth and you won’t judge me?

S: Of course.

T: Sure

L: depends

A: I slept with Lestat and I think we’re dating now. We’re about to discuss it

He put the phone down after this message, trying to ignore the vibrations indicating incoming messages. Lestat seemed to not come back to the table any time soon, so he picked up his phone again to check and respond to the numerous messages.

S: Your roommate? What?? He likes you back?

L: jfc, of course

S: Wdym ofc? What about the kiss disaster??

T: Sure, but come on, it was clear they wanted each other

S: I guess…

L: so… did he dick you down good?

S: LUCY??

T: Lol

A: I promise i’ll tell you everything on saturday. Just needed to let someone know

L: no way you come by asap i’m not waiting a week to hear this shit

S: Also, Todd is going to be there next weekend. I can’t have your messy romance be his first impression of my friends, dude.

Ah yes Todd, Sarah’s new boyfriend she had finally revealed the day before. He thought about when his schedule was free for a couple of hours at least, before he responded.

A: I’ll come by tuesday

Then he silenced the chat and put his phone back into his pocket right when Lestat approached the table with their drinks in hand.

“So,” he said, while sitting down and placing Armand’s cold brew in front of him.

Instead of talking further Lestat simply took a large sip of his own coffee only extending the awkwardness of the moment. Before he could finally say something Armand couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

“I want to be with you!” Armand exclaimed. “I don’t care about anything else. I don’t care what happened to you or me, I only want to be with you. I want to love you and for you to love me back. And you might disagree because of what happened to each of us, but I think it could actually help, like we might understand each other more because of it, more than anyone else could.”

Lestat stared at him owlishly. Armand simply stared back pleading with Lestat to simply agree, to not fight him anymore. He did not care for fighting any longer. Armand felt like he fought his entire life, let this one thing simply be a win without a battle. The moment felt like it dragged on forever, before Lestat finally responded after exhaling a small sigh.

“You know, I think you’re right,” the words felt like a chorus of angels singing down from heaven. “Even if we agreed to call it quits, we’d probably just fall back into bed together by tonight. Let’s just give it our best go! What else is there to do now, right?”

Armand realised in this moment that he was never actually pissed off or bothered by Lestat’s go-getter attitude which often led him to easily agree to some very stupid things, if anything it was his favourite thing about Lestat now.

Not once has he rolled his eyes incredibly hard when Lestat retold another tale about losing a dumb bet or impulsively buying another thing he did not need. No, let the record show that Armand deeply loved how headstrong Lestat was about simply doing things because he felt like it at the time.

“Okay… alright,” Armand said, trying to contain the flood of emotions that entered him.

Oh, he was giddy with joy, a huge smile overtaking his face not even bothered to feign humility at finally having won Lestat over. Though, the man didn’t seem to mind considering he simply reached across the table to take hold of Armand’s hand again.

There was only one thing left that still bugged him, that needed to be resolved. And that was Lestat’s still mostly unexplained days-long absence.

“Where were you actually the past week? You said you were with your professor, but what did you do exactly?” he asked, striking a slightly more serious tone.

Lestat immediately seemed put on edge by the inquiry, but he did not retreat his affection towards Armand, his hand still firmly clutching the other man’s.

“He needed immediate assistance on something, which required my utmost availability at all times, so I stayed with him. I almost declined, but he reassured me complete protection from any negative consequences,” Lestat paused. “Including my passing of Prehistory. Naturally, I took him up on it.”

Ah, there it was, Lestat had clearly secured some kind of deal. Still, what he said all seemed true even if Armand had a feeling he still kept something from him. Although by now he was done ruminating over every little inconsistency in their communication.

He was blissfully happy, why ruin that with unnecessary contemplation of every word they ever said to each other? They were dishonest from time to time, they knew that, they did not care any longer as long as they knew the actual relevant stuff. The past was the past and their differing minor courses were better kept apart anyway, unless it was something stimulating their conversation, rather than stifle it. So they just silently sipped their drinks for a while.

“But never mind about me, anything new with you that I missed?” Lestat suddenly started. “I know we’ve been preoccupied with each other since I returned, but it feels rude I haven’t asked you that yet, my apologies,” he said after a few pleasantly silent moments.

Armand sighed.

“You probably are aware, but Nicolas will most certainly get the assistant position, which means I need to actually look for a different job now. As I told you, I plan on saving most of my leftover money."

“I do, but it’s rather unfortunate,” Lestat replied, while leaning towards him. “You’d be a lot more suited for it.”

“You flatter me now,” Armand said, rolling his eyes slightly.

“Yes, I am,” he admitted. “But it’s also true. No one has as much passion for literature of all kinds as you do. I love the plays certainly, but you seem to relish everything. And Nicki has no passion for it, only dedication. His heart belongs to music.”

The casual mention of Nicolas stung, but he simply reminded himself that Lestat was his now and any knowledge Lestat had of Nicolas came from and belonged to the past too.

“This does not change the simple truth that he delivered better results than me.”

“Ah, but Professor Andrews has never seemed simple to me,” he said, before taking a sip of his coffee, while somehow still smirking.

“I just won’t get my hopes up, that is all,” Armand said and that was the end of it before he questioned something unrelated. “Did you tell anyone about us yet? That we are together now?”

“We just officially decided that, how could I have told anyone?” he asked though there was slight guilt in his eyes the moment Armand asked. Armand simply raised one brow. “I texted Antoinette about us yesterday. And I called my mother briefly before getting our drinks, mentioning you in passing.”

“I told the roommates just now,” Armand admitted, the roommates being his abbreviation for Sarah, Tanja, and Lucy to Lestat. 

Suddenly, it struck him. If Sarah would bring her new boyfriend on Saturday what was stopping him from also introducing Lestat to his friends? That was kind of perfect, no matter how much they’d criticise him soon they would have to eat their words once they met him.

“Actually, would you like to come to boardgame night on Saturday?” he asked, suddenly enthusiastic.

If there was one sure-fire way to get his friends to like Lestat it was meeting him. He was so incredibly good at winning people over; it was almost insane. He convinced Armand to fall in love with him while he still held a very deep grudge against him for fuck’s sake. Only describing him truly didn’t do him justice. He was a force in person, a charmer through and through, who made people love him despite his more obvious flaws.

“I would love to, but I’d worry about disrupting your peace,” he responded carefully.

“Sarah is also bringing her new boyfriend, so I don’t think upsetting the dynamic would be an issue, but if it’d soothe you, I could ask them if bringing you would be okay, I’ll go over to their place in a couple of days.”

“That’d be appreciated,” was all Lestat said in response.

The café was mostly silent, so they kept their conversation low. It was a Sunday morning, they had arrived there at barely 10am, and were still hiding in the far corner at their usual table next to the closed end of the serving bar, which meant there were several tables separating them from the window front and most other customers.

Despite the privacy of the table they were still in public, therefore he had to hope for an honest response from Lestat to his next question, obviously disregarding his initial response that morning.

“What should we do today? I want to spend the rest of the day with you,” he asked sincerely, hoping he’d get a real answer.

“Hm,” Lestat leaned back into his chair to contemplate the question for a moment. “Ice skating?”

“I’ve never done that before,” at this point Armand was no longer ashamed of admitting his lack of real-world experiences to Lestat. Mostly because Lestat simply took these admissions in stride.

“Mini-golfing?” Lestat going through the idlest date activities was so deeply charming, leading Armand to simply accept whatever. Also, this was an activity he could at least slightly recall from his memory, actually having done it before.

“Yes. Let’s play some miniature golf, if you’d like,” Armand said innocently.

Lestat looked way too satisfied at winning Armand over to his benign suggestion. He soon would need to do something that would unsettle Lestat again, he thought cheekily, just to keep him a little off-kilter.

They finished their coffee, then went back to their room so Lestat could get his car keys to drive to the mini-golf course he had looked up on his phone. Armand realised it was the first time he saw Lestat’s car again after that accident on the first day, now completely fixed again. Armand decided to refrain from commenting on it one way or another and thankful neither did Lestat. They drove mostly in silence, listening to the radio, only stopping shortly to grab a quick lunch snack while exchanging what crisp flavour was the best.

A few times during the drive Armand sneaked one of his hands onto Lestat’s thigh to which the man responded by leaning into the touch, before suddenly realising he was supposed to be focused on driving, so he simply took Armand’s hand in his own, placing them between their bodies as a compromise, before extracting it to grip the wheel again after a minute. Armand could live with that, Lestat sufficiently off-kiltered again for the time being. Armand just smirked to himself looking out the window and over the passing scenery.

Once they arrived, they immediately went to the lending station for the clubs and balls. The bored looking woman at the counter handed them the basket of differently coloured golf balls and a club each, before offering them snacks mostly intended to entice twelve-year-olds, reminding them that they were playing a game designed for families and children. Not that the bouncy castle on the lawn in front of the course could let them forget.

Though it seemed the medium did not matter to them, they were both competitive in every way. When they fought about the collision the fault was clear and they still despised each other over it for weeks on end. Every class together felt like a thing that could be won through a slightly higher grade than the other. No surprise an actual game that was designed to have winners and losers would immediately fire them up.

“When was the last time you actually played?” Lestat asked, while they were approaching the first hole, just a straight lane between the starting point and the destination.

“When I was fourteen, I think,” Armand replied, setting the cup of balls down on a nearby bench, handing one of them to Lestat.

“Hm, I have not played any games since I was young either,” he said, replacing the ball Armand handed to him with a different one, just to annoy him probably, and then put that one down on the marked spot. Then he looked up at Armand, while still kneeling down. “Want to make a bet? Whoever loses has to do something for the other.”

“Like what?” Armand questioned, while Lestat got up again. “The winner chooses takeaway for tonight and the loser has to pay?”

“Excellent idea!” Lestat accepted. “But do you want it to be a bit more challenging?”

He moved over to Armand and slightly tilted his head up next to Armand’s ear to whisper.

“How about whoever wins can request something sexual tonight?”

Armand leaned back immediately to look at Lestat's face, which displayed unadulterated lust.

And cockiness. Lestat made it clear he was sure to win and Armand could not accept that. Not in a million years.

“It always comes back to that with you,” Armand said.

Lestat shrugged, but then gave him a look that implied that Armand was a bit of a hypocrite for accusing him of that, which he probably was, considering he tried to grope Lestat several times on the ride over to the course.

“Whatever, sure! Now take your swing, brat,” he prompted.

Lestat stepped back, but his satisfied expression did not wane. He took one of the clubs they leaned against the bench and positioned himself at the start of the lane, where the ball was, to take his swing while Armand sat down on the bench, twirling the other club with one hand, watching. Lestat raised his club high, before letting it swing down with the pull gravity and a little of his own force.

The ball rolled in a straight line right into the hole. Lestat triumphantly raised his arms turning towards him before Armand stood up, collected the ball out of the hole and walked over to Lestat to shove him away from his position at the top of the lane, to play his turn basically identical, though with a lot more rage and disdain.

Surprisingly, it also landed into the hole on the first try. Armand faced a slightly astounded Lestat with nothing but pride, before his facade hardened. The game was on.

Thus commenced the most intense game of mini-golf probably ever conducted. It certainly did not help that they instigated that bet beforehand.

Both of them were on their A-game, concentrating during every move, shushing each other’s constant heckling, taking enormous measures to line their shots up just right, and sending away others approaching the lane they were playing on with dirty looks. That last one happened a lot, actually.

Because despite their respective efforts, they both unequivocally and without a doubt completely sucked at the game. They didn’t even bother with the stroke limit, both of them exceeding it on every lane after the first one. Turns out shooting straight was the only thing they were really able to do. So, they only kept count of their strokes and whoever had the least would win. The only good thing was that they pretty much sucked in equal measures, meaning the game's intensity did not wane, but only increased, even if their progress through the course was at a snail’s pace.

A little over four hours in, having taken a small break, during which they actually had some pleasant conversation despite their hostile sentiments during the game, they were finally at the eighteenth hole, only a large windmill standing between the goal and them.

“You really picked the most stereotypical miniature golf course you could find, didn’t you?” Armand asked mostly in jest, while leaning his hands on the club before him, in front of the large construction.

“There was one a little closer, I admit it,” Lestat simply went and set down his ball for the fifteen's time; a few of his attempts left the course, so he had to reset them.

As expected, Lestat needed an exuberant number of strokes before his ball finally rolled home into the hole, which did not stop him from loudly celebrating once it finally did.

“And that is how an expert does it! You could learn a lot from me in that regard, mon petit demon.”

Armand simply ignored him and checked how many strokes he needed to beat Lestat. 

After this last one, Lestat had twenty-one more than him, which felt neatly in the range of shots Armand needed for most lanes. Not impossible, but also not guaranteed.

He started his turn, slowly getting nervous when he was not past the windmill on his tenth attempt. He started to sweat after the fifteenth. On the eighteenth he passed it. A few more and he had the perfect short distance between his ball and the hole, ready to shoot, when Lestat interrupted.

“You know—”

“Fuck off, I was about to hit it,” he exclaimed, straightening himself out and throwing a glare back at Lestat.

“I only wanted to say,” he almost sounded sincere. “If you get it now, we’re even,” Armand went over the number of his strokes so far and realised Lestat was right.

He was so concentrated he did not register that he was already on his twenty-first try. 

“I say in that case we just split the rewards and toss a coin on who gets what,” he said way too diplomatically for Armand’s taste.

“Sure, whatever,” Armand responded halfheartedly, already back to bending over slightly and lining up his shot.

One last stroke, if he got it now, he would finally win; well be even, but with Lestat that was a win. He hit the ball going straight where it should go, guaranteed to go in, and then it simply circled the hole a few times, before jumping back out and rolling a few centimetres away.

Lestat yelled in triumph; Armand fell to his knees.

If it was up to Armand, he would simply take his punishment with the utmost humility and just have Lestat communicate it to him immediately, but of course Lestat would not let him and had him finish the game just to firmly establish his victory. So, he took the last shot and this time the ball rolled lazily into the hole in an apt metaphor for his own descent.

While they returned the equipment Armand finally got Lestat to make at least his first request.

“So, what does the winner want for supper?” he asked, before handing the equipment back over the counter of the lending booth.

“Ah, winner, le gagnant , that does sound right,” Lestat still boasted, standing back to let Armand do all the work of returning the clubs and balls.

“I think Chinese this evening. Don’t even bother agreeing, because the winner has spoken.”
“I will kill you one of these days,” Armand gritted out, while they left the course, heading for the street where Lestat’s car was parked.

They went back to the college, with only a quick stop to pick up some takeout. Armand dutifully paid for it, while Lestat simply accepted the bags from the server with the utmost thanks. They arrived at their dorm room, just in time for them to actually be hungry again after their small snack during lunch.

Despite Lestat's almost uninterrupted boasting since he won, he actually put the act down once they were in their room and they ate their food in peace, talking about everything and nothing and it just felt like them again. Although their dynamic had changed, the way they talked would never be different. Always alternating between playful ribbing and the sweetest compliments, but forever sincere in everything they discussed together.

“Okay, so one of the questions we debated in class on Friday, I want your take on it,” Armand asked after a lengthy discussion on a history topic Lestat was clearly more educated on than him.

“Alright, what is it?” Lestat replied, while taking another fork full of his noodles.

“Can morality be objectively determined? Is there an objective morality at all and if so, is it knowable to us?” he asked.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” god, how he loved that Lestat simply engaged him in these arguments without question. “I think there are commonly agreed upon ones, like murder is wrong, but these mostly come from the fact that a human society that freely accepts murder would probably descend into chaos quite quickly. However, maybe there are ones, again like murder, which are biologically ingrained though. Would that count as objective?”
“No, I don’t think so. Something simply being biologically ingrained, does not determine its moral value. A cuckoo placing their parasitic offspring in another bird’s nest is biologically ingrained, but it does not seem moral, does it now?” Armand answered.

Lestat pondered this for a bit, while Armand picked up another dumpling with his chopstick and tossed it into his mouth.

“Then what does? How is that moral line established, if not through biology or subjective judgement?” he questioned.

“A god, I suppose. Some entity above humanity, at the very least.”

“Well, I don’t believe in a god, so I think I revert to my first answer, there are only societal imperatives, made through human subjectivity,” relented Lestat.

“See, I agree, for the most part. I mean, I think there is something out there, if I’d call it a god, I don’t know, but even if it, or they, had this objective idea of morality, it seems they never established it in a way that would be completely knowable to us.”
“But you do suppose there could be an objective one, established by a god, it is simply unknowable?”

“There are just certain instincts that feel so deeply ingrained, it is hard to not think of them as objective, or rather that they would be objective to a deity above humanity. But the societal survival argument is deeply compelling and one I return too often as well.”

“Well, then I sadly gave you no new revelation,” the disappointment in his voice was deeply endearing to Armand, like Lestat truly hoped he could offer some unique thought to him.

“No, I think you have, you always do,” Armand said and he truly meant it.

After they finished their food, they laid down in Armand’s bed together, considering Lestat’s was still soiled from the previous night's activities. They simply rested there next to each other, not exchanging a word, probably both lost in their own thoughts.

“Tell me something about you that no one else knows,” Armand suddenly prompted out of the blue, while turning on his side, to look at Lestat.

Lestat still laid on his back, staring up, before turning his head towards Armand at the sudden question. His gaze was soft and curious, though he clearly thought about the question a bit before answering.

“I’m afraid of being alone. That there will come the day when the only one left for me to confide in is myself, everyone else having left,” Lestat said and he never sounded more sincere, sounding even more vulnerable than when he confessed about his childhood, it almost made Armand feel bad for asking about such an intimate detail in the first place. 

“You?” he asked, in a resemblance of the exchange they had the previous night.

“Painting,” Lestat immediately looked at him with a puzzled look, so he quickly elaborated. “I used to paint a lot, I was good at it, but it’s tied up in some weird circumstances. Recently, I wanted to start again, but there’s some blockade in my mind.”

“What if you saw something you wanted to paint, something irresistibly beautiful, you couldn’t help but want to paint it?” Lestat asked after a moment, rather naively.

“I guess, I could be convinced,” Armand answered honestly. “Anything else you could ask of me?”

He did not expect an immediate response from Lestat, but got one anyway.

“Actually, yes. Take a shower, l’amour ,” he answered, before giving him a peck on the lips. “I’ll make the beds, mine is kind of filthy right now.”

Armand narrowed his eyes at him, but complied. It was clear Lestat wanted to ready everything for his second reward and if Lestat offered to make both their beds too, who was he to deny him?

While showering, he could not stop his mind from wondering about everything Lestat might ask of him, while making sure to be thoroughly clean, although he skipped washing his hair. The showering prompt indicated clearly enough he wanted to do something rather involved with Armand and a myriad of options opened up. Armand was excited and uncertain in equal measures.

He wanted to explore as much as possible with Lestat, but he was also aware of how fragile their relationship still was and did not want it to start heading into rocky territory because of something as mundane as some unfamiliar sex thing he might object to.

And to Armand a lot was unfamiliar, at least in practice. Lestat certainly had gotten around a lot more than him, still he had his fair share of fantasies. And unfulfilled promises.

He finished his shower, half hard already, but still unsettled, and returned to the room. He entered slowly, carefully closing the door behind him, knowing Lestat would be on him pretty quickly, once they were in complete privacy.

And he was right, Lestat claiming his mouth the second he turned around after closing the door and Armand simply let him. Let him kiss him and guide him back to his bed, now freshly lined with new bedding, still smelling like the lush, flowery scent of Lestat’s detergent. They sunk into the bedding together, barely separating their lips the entire time, tongues carelessly intermingling. Once they were comfortably positioned, Lestat drew his face up and away from an open-mouthed, slightly panting Armand.

“Let me rim you?” Lestat requested, getting straight to the point.

He certainly did not expect that, his head still fuzzy from the intense kiss. He had assumed Lestat would want Armand to do something to him, not the other way around.

“That’s what you want?” he asked, still dreamily staring up at Lestat, just to clarify.

“It is,” Lestat stated, before kissing his face and neck.

So, he let Lestat do it, let him undress him, before he slowly kissed down his body, just as he had done the previous night, but with a different result, moving down further and lifting Armand’s legs up a bit.

At first it felt strangely unfamiliar, but the physical act itself arousing enough, his cock filling up steadily. One of Lestat’s hands moved up his body, while the other continued its grip on one of his thighs. The wandering hand first moved over his torso, but then it settled to stroke his arm instead, while Lestat continued the rather enthusiastic movements of his mouth and tongue on Armand’s hole, the slopiness of his actions only amplifying their shared arousal.

Armand did his best to focus on the moment, but Lestat’s touch on his arm unwittingly sent his mind away to memories of previous sensual touches just like that one.

All of them innocent enough, but with a certain implication. With promises of things to come. Never more than small, innocuous touches. An arm rub here, a hand on his lower back there, but Armand wasn’t foolish, he knew what to anticipate. And then it never came, because he was hauled off before it could. Frustrated at first, but then slowly liberated from it.

And then he simply started to not care about the past. What was it to him, but moments gone by? He refocused on what Lestat was doing now and how he no longer needed to recall anything but the man making him feel good, because he wanted Armand to feel good. Once again he decided the past didn’t matter and he did not even question why he felt the need to let go of these things in the first place.

He looked down at Lestat, finding the other man already staring up at him and once they made eye contact Armand almost came from that alone. He did his best to hold back, before simply burying one of his hands in Lestat’s hair, not to guide, but just to hold onto something, while taking hold of himself with the other.

He ended up coming just like that, with Lestat’s face buried between his thighs and his own hand stroking his cock.

Once Lestat moved up and was level with him again, his cock standing straight up right above Armand’s crotch it only took a few pulls from Armand, for Lestat to also come right over his already cooling cum on his stomach. Lestat simply stared at their milky spend, clearly visible on his skin, in an awed fascination. Once Armand looked a little closer at Lestat’s spellbound expression, he could spot some tears swelling in Lestat’s eyes.

“This makes you sentimental? Really? Spunk?”

“Shut up,” Lestat said, slightly wiping his eyes, before carefully cleaning the cum from Armand’s skin with a tissue.

Armand simply marveled at Lestat’s considerate and careful gestures, like he truly was a precious thing that Lestat was scared to accidentally break.

After they were settled together, this time Lestat’s front against Armand’s back, they once again fell asleep together in Lestat’s bed, Armand not even considering moving to his own.

The next morning went similar to the previous one, although a little quicker, due to the need to hurry to get to class on time. Though the entire time they were touching one another. It felt like they couldn’t let go of each other for even the shortest moments. Poking the other’s side while brushing their teeth, helping one another get dressed, little gestures like that littered throughout their morning routine.

Armand was bold enough to exchange the jumper Lestat wanted to wear for a different one he liked a little more on him. After which Lestat came up behind him to ruffle his hair, just when he had adjusted his curls to his liking, which was immediately met with mock dismay from Armand, who quickly smoothed them over again. 

Still, Armand let Lestat pick through his ringbox to let him decide which he should wear for the day. Lestat, ever the hedonist, picked out multiple of the more intricate ones, including the sapphire one he had kept hidden away for so long. Armand simply indulged him and put them on, not for a second thinking about anything other than pleasing Lestat.

They walked to class together, getting a coffee on the way, and strutted into the lecture hall holding hands, not caring who noticed.

They didn’t hide anything about their updated relationship status, just as they had done in the café the previous day. Armand was done hiding, hiding brought back only the most unpleasant reminders and Lestat for his part, never hid anything about himself anymore.

Most people did not seem to care or even notice their sudden friendliness. They never sat together much before, but now they settled into their seats next to each other without discussion. Some people did stare at their entwined hands when they entered, but it mostly just evoked slight amusement from their fellow students.

The one exception was Nicolas. He was already in the room when they entered and once he spotted them together his face morphed into the same expression he wore after Armand had slapped him, mostly quiet fury. And then… he just looked a little despondent. Retreating back into his chair, not looking at anything but his desk before him.

Armand had a million times fantasised about winning Lestat and how he would gloat about it and spite Nicolas, though all of that before he ever even thought he could actually have Lestat.

Still, now that the situation from his little fantasies was true he would’ve assumed it would be at least a little pleasing. Instead, he just felt empathy for Nicolas. After all, was he not in that same position before? No, for Nicolas it was even worse. He had his chance with Lestat and he still had chosen someone else. He chose Armand.

And for him that reality ultimately took precedence over the pity he felt for Nicolas, so despite the empathy, he could not feel too bad, though any kind of boasting was not on the table anymore. He decided to leave it and let Nicolas wallow in his hurt by himself.

He could really get used to letting things go, it continued to feel quite freeing.

Despite being with Lestat and being around him so much and it all feeling so very wonderful, Armand did realise that his life outside of Lestat was still something he needed to care about and attend to. And Literature was on top of that list, after he wasted the last session on sulking over his stolen notes.

He concentrated hard on the discussion at hand and continued his usual streak of active engagement. Well, even more so than usual at first, because both his regular competitors seemed to have checked out for the time being.

Nicolas clearly still shellshocked over this new revelation, simply sitting back, while Lestat apparently decided to relax and watch Armand do his thing. Once in a while Armand spied him in the corner of his eye, fully turned towards him, listening with rapt attention, while he talked and sitting back once he stopped and Andrews continued. But mostly he did not disturb Armand, stopped the hand holding and occasional whispering they normally had going on now.

“-so he is not able to capture these experiences in his description of her treatment by himself and others, because he does not perceive them, though the inconsistencies within his narration are resolved by the end. Purely because by then more overt bigotry enters the plot,” Armand finished his statement on the current text they were discussing.

“Exactly, the character's identity is in fact deeply tied to the gaps within his narration, very good. Further I would argue—” his rapt attention on Andrews’ additions was suddenly disrupted when Lestat, for the first time, leaned over to him to whisper something in his ear.

“God, you’re so fucking hot when you’re so smart and passionate about something,” he breathed into Armand’s ear, he could basically hear how genuinely turned-on Lestat was. 

Then he leaned back again and continued paying attention to Andrews. Armand stared at Lestat for a moment, wondering if it’ll be like this forever, if this constant intensity between them was what would carry them through. If it was enough to overcome the flaws in their dynamic. These ruminations on their relationship slightly overriding his concentration on the rest of the lesson.

At the end of the lecture, Armand extracted himself from these thoughts and together they made their way towards the door of the room together, before Lestat simply turned towards him.

“See you at lunch?”

“Like always,” Armand smiled and Lestat gave him a peck on the lips, before he left the lecture hall.

Andrews approached him for once while Armand was still making heart eyes at Lestat’s retreating figure.

“Armand?” Andrews asked, pulling his focus away from his gone boyfriend now. “Would you have some time to come to my office on Wednesday, during my office hours? I would like to discuss something with you?”

Armand immediately went into panic mode. Between his sulking last week and him being slightly distracted by Lestat this lesson, his performance in class has certainly deteriorated. Was he about to be reprimanded for it? Or was Andrews simply preparing to explain to him why he wouldn’t be picked for the job? Either option horrified him. He’d rather just have Andrews rip the band-aid off now, but he did not dare protest.

“Yes, I’ll be there,” he simply responded in a daze, before leaving for his next class.

His mind was still reeling with the possibilities of what Andrews wanted to discuss, although he calmed himself, knowing a talk about it with Lestat was sure to bring some clarity. And to his own relief, he was of course right about that.

Once he met with Lestat for lunch the only thing they exchanged about his encounter with Andrews, was brief, but reassuring, like Lestat always was when it came to this topic.

“Andrews wants to talk to me on Wednesday, I think he wants to let me down easy.”
“Or perhaps he won’t and he’ll give you the job you deserve,” Lestat answered.

Armand wanted to disagree, but then Lestat simply asked him his opinion on the differences between hot pink and fuchsia, because a friend of his was doing a fashion design minor and had some stark opinions on the differentiation of the two shades.

And that was that. He went on the rest of the day with a bit more morale than before lunch, simply thanks to his boyfriend’s kind words.

He arrived back in their room before Lestat did, which meant he had some time to do something without him, that wasn’t attending a college class.

He decided to watch a new movie, like usual when he had the opportunity, though he was distracted by his meeting with the roommates’ the following day. He had no clue how this thing with Lestat would go over with them. He hoped they would not be too hostile, but at this point it was hard to tell how much tolerance they still had for his turbulent love life.

And then there was Lestat himself and their frankly unstable relationship. Of course, so far everything was sunshine and rainbows, but what would happen once the monotony set in or let alone a fight broke out? It was easy to claim they had a healthy dynamic only two days in, but once something disrupted this peaceful calmness, would they be able to handle it or would they immediately fall apart? Or worse, explode? And then there was the winter break fast approaching. He knew Lestat wanted to go home to France for at least three weeks. What would that time apart do to them?

They both knew they started this despite rationally being aware that it was not the wise choice. What if Lestat came to his senses and walked into the room calling the whole thing off again? Saw through the futility of their too fucked up circumstances, in which they could only offer momentary happiness to one another.

His thoughts spiralled until the movie faded into the credits and Lestat suddenly strutted into the room, throwing his bag into the corner. Armand looked up immediately.

“Newsflash, like Americans say, despite not failing me, my Prehistory professor still despises me deeply,” Lestat declared into the room, before he turned to Armand wearing a mischievous smirk. “Think you might have some time to kiss it better?”

Armand didn’t think, all his worries were immediately thrown aside, as was his laptop, before he stood up and steadily approached Lestat, nothing except desire on his mind.

And so he quickly found himself kneeling behind Lestat on his bed, holding tight to his hips with both hands, while watching his own cock thrust in and out of Lestat’s body, before moving his gaze up to watch the other man bury his face into his pillow to smother his excessive moans.

This was certainly good enough for Armand not to care about anything else surrounding them, only focussing on their shared pleasure. In that moment all his worries about assistant jobs, his friends’ judgement, and this fragile fucking thing that was their relationship moved into the background. The only relevant feeling between them was their shared affection and the physicality of the act. All that mattered was this moment and it felt bloody fantastic.

Armand simply ended up leaning forward to grab Lestat by the hair to pull his head back, freeing his face from the pillow, letting the man’s moans echo in the small room. He quickly gathered his arms around Lestat’s upper body, to pull him against his own chest, never faltering the rapid movements of his hips in the process. He immediately buried his face in Lestat’s neck, emitting little whiny noises into it, suddenly overwhelmed by having Lestat so close, so intimately. Once he held Lestat tight against himself, shortening his thrust to a grind, with Lestat tangling a hand in his hair to keep his head close to his neck, everything just clicked into place. Armand only tightened his hold on Lestat, suddenly feeling like he could never let go again. Hell, maybe he won’t.

Once they were finished, laying together in Armand’s narrow bed, he couldn’t help but look up at the even ceiling in quiet concern, while Lestat peacefully slumbered on top of him. Alone with his thoughts in the darkened room, no longer clouded by lust, all previous worries overtook Armand’s mind once again until they carried him all the way into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Armand was raising his right hand knocking on the roommates’ door, when it suddenly opened after the second knock while his fist was still in motion to deliver another. All three women he was there to meet were standing at the door with expecting looks on their faces. Alright, so they were not completely tired of his love life yet.

Armand entered the flat rather sheepishly, once they moved apart to let him through, and immediately navigated his way over to the couch while the three of them simply trailed behind him silently.

He sat down taking a second before he looked up at the three women standing over him. Sarah and Tanja looked mostly curious, while Lucy stared daggers at him with her arms resolutely crossed in front of her chest. Like that they looked like the witches from MacBeth to him ready to declare his doom, save the whole toil and trouble business.

“So, where to start? I’ve told you Lestat was missing right?” he asked, having nothing left to start with but the truth.

“Right, Saturday you talked about how he was gone and no one could find him,” Sarah started.

“You looked like an alerted meerkat the entire night,” Lucy interjected lazily.

“And the next day you’re dating?” Sarah carried on ignoring her friend. “How does that even happen? I mean, you barely even talked about him anymore since you showed up here crying. I thought you might’ve been over him since then. Honestly, I hoped you were. He didn’t let you date only a couple of weeks into whatever you had, but slept with someone else shortly after? Sounds like a hypocrite."

Both Lucy and Tanja looked tensely at each other, then at Armand. He himself could not look at Sarah out of shame. She immediately noticed their collective nervousness… how could she not?

“Why does it seem you guys all know something I don’t,” she sounded so desperate, Armand’s heart broke in an instance.

“I… I’ve been lying to you,” Armand started, but he did not know how to proceed. He desperately looked to the other two for help. Ah, the coward he was.

Lucy ended up taking mercy on him and ripped the band-aid off.

“The guy he mentioned, the ‘complicated relationship’ which ‘didn’t let him date’,” Lucy actually mimed the quotation marks, Armand tried to comb his curls to hide his face in them. “He’s not Lestat, he’s some guy in England. Lestat he met here and had a thing for before we even met him. He didn’t tell you, so you wouldn’t think he lied to you when he said he couldn’t date anyone else.”

“So Lestat, your roommate, is a new guy? You lied about who he was and not being able to see anyone?” she addressed Armand still, even though Lucy was the one talking.

He quickly cleared the hair from his face to look at her. The hurt on her face pained him deeply, knowing he was the source of it.

“No, no. I truly thought I couldn’t date anyone, but it was more that I wasn’t ready for it. Lestat just… happened,” he explained. “But yes, I lied about who he was because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. And now I see I have… I’m truly sorry.”

There was a tense silence that entered the room. Armand and Sarah looked at each other with equal expressions of hurt and despair, while the other two women just observed them in suspended anticipation.

Finally, Sarah broke eye contact before speaking.

“It’s not that I’m not mad that you lied, but I can see why you would. I was not secretive about my pining,” Sarah said and all the anxiety stored inside him left in an instant, letting Armand physically relax again, his shoulders slumping in sudden relief while Sarah continued.

“But I’m not jealous anymore! I mean you’re great, but I’m glad you rejected me, otherwise I wouldn’t have found Todd,” a dreamy expression overtook her face. Oh, the others were right, when Sarah fell she fell hard. 

“But now give us the truth, everything!” she demanded and how could he refuse?

He recapped everything he told Lucy and Tanja, before going into what happened over the weekend, catching them up on it all.

From Armand and Lestat agreeing to distance from one another, the tense relationship that followed, Lestat’s sudden disappearance, and ending on his return and their grand confessions, though he kept it vague with ‘we told each other about our childhoods and bonded’. He ended it by recounting the beautiful day that followed, including that they agreed to be a couple.

“So, we are just dating now,” Armand ultimately finished, expectantly looking for a response from the women sitting next to him now.

During his confession, the three girls moved to sit with him on the couch, listening in apt attention. Once he was done it fell silent again, like they all were waiting for someone, anyone, to break the sudden tranquillity. Lucy, as always, found the best way to do so.

“So… did he dick you down good?” she asked while making a hurrying motion with her hand.

Involuntarily he grinned and Tanja started to laugh, while Sarah looked dismayed at her friend. Lucy simply shrugged back.

“Alright, alright, no need to get crude now,” but he couldn’t stop smiling. “It was good, yes.”

After they all calmed down Tanja took his hand in hers and simply held it for a little, before looking at him with the sincerest expression.

“Seriously even if the journey was chaotic, I think we’re all happy you figured it out and it ended well. I would love to meet Lestat, he really seems to matter to you a lot,” she said and the other girls agreed.

He was deeply relieved that his friends were this accepting already. He thought he’d have to defend Lestat vehemently, not just explain how their relationship came to be, but if that was all it took to convince his friends, who was he to complain?

And now they gave him the perfect opportunity to invite Lestat to their next get together.

“On that point, I thought if you brought your guy on Saturday, I could also bring Lestat? Kill two birds?” he asked Sarah.

“Of course, it would actually be convenient to have your boyfriend there, considering we have to plan your birthday party,” she said so casually, he almost didn’t catch that little aside. Almost.

“My birthday party? No, no—”

He almost forgot about that whole ordeal. Obviously when they first got to know each other all three asked him the most innocuous questions and he was glad to answer them all, just to connect with them and it honestly was just nice to be asked about himself so sincerely again after such a long time. At the time he could’ve not guessed that they were storing all that information away rather tactically it seemed, considering how easily they brought up the fact that they wanted to celebrate his birthday together the previous Saturday.

At the time, obviously still distracted by Lestat's disappearance, he simply agreed without even realising it. Now he definitely felt more like protesting.

He hadn’t celebrated his birthday since before his time with his guardian. He wasn’t even sure if it was his actual birthday, only knowing it was the date that was printed on his ID, but someone might as well just picked a random date to put on it.

“Yes, it’s your birthday the following Saturday, we have to do something,” she insisted. 

“I don’t celebrate my birthday, I haven’t since I was a teenager,” he pleaded one more time, which was true, the last birthday he celebrated was his fifteenth.

“Well, no time like the present to start again!” Sarah stated enthusiastically. “Birthday parties are mostly for the guests anyway.”

He desperately looked over to Lucy and Tanja, but they simply shrugged, like the decision was out of their hands as well. So, he didn’t even try to argue further while Sarah mapped out everything they would have to discuss.

The next day he approached Andrews’ office door at the end of the hallway almost in a déjà vu to approaching his friends’ flat the evening before. Although, the actual entrance was quite different.

He knocked on Andrews’ door, before shortly opening it, peering into the room.

“Ah, Armand, come in,” Andrews said once he spotted him in the doorframe.

He was still wiping his mouth with a napkin from his lunch, a salad from the university canteen sitting in front of him on his desk cluttered with books and loose papers; along random knick-knacks. Armand opened the door further, to enter taking a quick look around.

He was surprised by the amount of personality present in the room, never having been in his lecturer’s office before, while he fully took in the room after closing the door behind him.

One wall to the right of the desk was lined with shelves containing vast amounts of books, as expected most of them writing about literature rather than actual plays and novels, but otherwise the room was covered in a lot of nerdy references. The wall on the left side, between the two windows, had different comic book posters hanging on it which Armand did not recognise.

Doctor Who and Star Trek posters hung on the wall behind the desk while the cabinets standing underneath them were covered in little figurines of various characters from Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and probably other properties he did not know about. Meanwhile, many of the books on and around the desk were in fact novels, a mix of classics and contemporary ones.

One laid open next to Andrews’ salad, even from the entrance to the room Armand could see the open pages were full of marks and notes.

Armand moved into the room, approaching one of the two chairs arranged before the desk to sit down, putting his messenger bag on the ground next to the chair.

“So, you wanted to talk to me?” Armand asked. Here it was, the moment of truth.

“Yes, I did! I want to offer you the job as my assistant, if you’re still interested in the position.”

“I understa— uh, excuse me? I’m sorry, you’re offering it to me? The assistant position?” Armand was so ready to accept a rejection, the offer caught him unexpectedly.

Andrews only blinked at him in slight confusion and Armand suddenly realised the rudeness of his response. “I am sorry, I mean, I just assumed, based on performance, you would go with Nicolas. He has a similar performance rate in class and his midterms were better. He’s the obvious choice.”

Armand did not care that he was arguing for something that was ultimately bad for him. He needed to know why Andrews would choose him.

“Yes, Nicolas is brilliant and has the capability to be a great assistant, I agree. My decision was ultimately motivated by your genuine passion for the subjects we are discussing. I’m not going to lie, this position can be tedious at times and genuine interest helps immensely. And I see that type of interest in you the most out of all of my current students," Andrews answered and Armand immediately felt flattered. “But I still recommended Nicolas to several of my colleagues, he won’t be missing offers anytime soon, if that worries you.”

“It does not,” Armand tried to sound nonchalant. “He actually—” Armand suddenly paused.

He was about to tell Andrews about the stolen notes and book recommendation, but at the last moment he cut himself off, recalling his defeated look on Monday, which made a reappearance in every English lecture they had together since.

What reason did he have to hurt Nicolas now and potentially take an opportunity away from him? He won.

He had the job. He had Lestat. No past insults would change that. He’d won, fair and square, so what reason was there left to disadvantage Nicolas now?

Armand was often uncaring or even disregarding others, he knew that and the indifference within him that motivated this behaviour, but he was not cruel for cruelty’s sake. His actions always had reason and ultimately good to neutral intentions, he knew that much about himself. And exposing Nicolas now, neither helped him nor actually hurt anyone that needed to be hurt, so why bother?

He simply spouted the sweetest words he could gather for him instead.

“He actually would be a great assistant, I’m sure. Any of your colleagues would be lucky to have him,” and he meant every word he said.

“I agree,” Andrews said, not catching Armand’s sudden recourse. “And me? Would I be lucky to have you?”

The question made him realise that he did not yet agree to take the position, after his astonished declaration.

“Yes, of course. I’m flattered you chose me, Professor Andrews, I won’t disappoint.”
“I’m sure you won’t. Considering the end of the semester and winter break are less than a month and a half away, I think these first few weeks are going to be pretty chill,” Andrews explained. “Also, now that we will be working together, please just call me Jon or Jonathan, I prefer first names anyway. Further, I want to have an equal exchange with you, an actual partnership. You're very much working with me, not just for me, alright?”

“Yes, that sounds fantastic, Jon. I look forward to whatever you have me do, I’m sure of it.”

“Good, so we’re going to ease you into it, before it gets real next year, first…”

For the better part of the following hour Jon laid out everything he was currently working on and how he wanted to fit Armand into it. Though it all sounded intriguing, it was also slightly overwhelming.

So, he was glad to be stuck with the easier, if more tedious, task of doing secondary literature research for the primary texts Jon was working on at the moment.

All in all, it was everything he hoped and more. He got to work with literary texts way more intensely than he could’ve otherwise, and while the pay wasn’t great, he could mostly arrange when he was working himself, only having to regularly touch base with Jon, to deliver his work or receive a new task, which fit well with his meticulously planned schedule, only needing to make small adjustments now.

He wanted to text Lestat immediately, once he left Jon’s office, but held off on it. The possibility of getting to see Lestat’s reaction to hearing the news for the first time was too enticing to pass up on.

So, he texted the roommates instead, the only other people up to date on his job situation. They were, of course, all overjoyed for him.

Sarah even texted:

S: Now we can celebrate your birthday and you getting the job!

He smiled at that message in particular, slowly getting used to the idea of celebrating with his friends, but after pocketing his phone his mind was completely focused on finding Lestat.

It was Wednesday afternoon, which meant he was in his Anthropology class. Armand knew about it, because it took place in the lecture hall with a large glass front facing the campus, easily looked into from a gathering of outdoor tables nearby.

Armand had often taken to reading there at the beginning of the semester. If he only did so on Wednesday afternoon’s, otherwise preferring the silence of his own room or the library, then that was simply a coincidence. And that he had stopped doing so after a few weeks, was merely because of the colder weather, of course.

Now he went back to those same benches and immediately spotted Lestat in the third row, aptly listening to his lecturer by the look of it. Armand simply let himself stare for a bit. It was not creepy, if the guy you were watching was your boyfriend, right? Surely not.

He was never in denial over Lestat’s beauty, but sometimes it still caught him off-guard. Just seeing him in this undiluted form was truly exhilarating. Lestat so carefree, his expression always emotive and his body language wildly used by him. When he talked, Armand did not need to hear his words to perceive his passion. Lestat was so alive and animated; his enthusiasm transcended words. 

Armand felt both possessive and envious over it. Glad to have someone like Lestat all to himself, while also recognising that everything that he loved about Lestat he loved because he himself lacked it.

He never had this type of easy self-assuredness that Lestat wielded so naturally. Lestat just knew how to navigate the world around him, or at least pretended to, in a way Armand never could.

Armand’s insecurity was always bleeding through, even in his most intricate endeavours. He always suspected this played a role in Lestat’s initial rejection of him. He could sense that Armand was lost and lonely and he did not want to take on the burden of stirring him around.

What made him change his mind, whether Armand seemed more equipped now or if he simply did not care about this lack in him, Armand did not know. Maybe it was truly the honesty that did it. He only was sure that Lestat would not relent on not wanting to take the reins in their relationship all on his own and if Armand ever urged him to, Lestat would certainly be gone.

He did not intend on doing so obviously, he quite enjoyed being in control himself now and he would do nothing to endanger his hold on Lestat, but he did fear the possibility of it becoming an inevitability. Something might happen that forced him into a state where he needed someone else to take the course for him and he was sure it was the one possibility that could repel Lestat.

In his mind he was certain there was only one person who could not only do it, but would also never grow to resent him for it. Maybe that was why he felt like he could not completely let go no matter how much the beautiful new memories he made with Lestat replaced the now bitter ones of old.

He had always feared he would forever hold onto the idea that was the life he almost led and was meant to lead. That he would always hold onto the man who so intricately designed it for him, was supposed to guide him through it all. That there was no escape from a life and purpose that once seemed utterly inevitable. Because he was told that it was right and perfect and how could he desire anything deemed less by someone who valued him so highly?

When he thought of living that life designed for him, instead of the one he had now, he got a similar feeling to the ones he got from recalling these past memories nowadays; complete and utter dread. Like imagining being a bird locked in a cage for the rest of time, punished if he even tried to open his wings. The safety of it meant nothing to him now.

He did not need safety, he hadn’t had any in years and he’d gotten by, he survived. And now, he more than survived, he finally lived and he was happy. With his studies, his job, and his friends. And first and foremost with Lestat. There was no happiness found in safety for him anymore that much was clear now.

Once the lecture ended, signalled by everyone in the room clapping before gathering their things, Armand disentangled himself from these thoughts and stood up going closer to the entrance of the building, waiting for the students to exit.

After a few minutes a group of them, Lestat and some of his friends among them, left the building still talking amongst each other. Once Lestat spotted Armand he immediately smiled and went over to him, excusing himself to the others.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he yelled over still a few paces away, while Armand also started to move towards him.

“Andrews gave me the position!” he rushed out once Lestat was close enough to hear.

Lestat looked at him stunned, before his words started to register. Then he rushed forward and gathered Armand up in a fierce hug daring so far as to lift him up and spin him around. Armand kept himself stock still, too taken aback at the sudden motion, before he started hugging him back laughing at the antics of his overly excited boyfriend.

Lestat set him down again before taking Armand’s face into his hands to give him a hard, but brief kiss.

“I told you again and again! I told you; you’d get it!” he celebrated, still not caring that they stood in the middle of campus, others amusedly looking at them, including the group Lestat came out of the building with.

“Yes, indeed you did,” Armand admitted sheepishly.

“God, this is amazing! I’m getting you something to eat tonight, whatever you want! We have to celebrate. Oh, you’re going to love it, I just know it.”

“Okay, okay, whatever I want huh? I think about it. And I’m certain I’ll love the work, just like you do,” Lestat’s smile faltered just a bit at that last comment, then he simply turned and slung his arm over Armand’s shoulder to lead him back to their room together.

“For your information, I don’t think I told you last night, you can come with me to game night, the girls would love to meet you,” Armand mentioned, while they strolled across the lawn between the dorms.

“And I would love to meet your beautés as well,” he said, giving Armand a peck on the cheek. “Glad to know I won’t be a nuisance.”

“Actually, Sarah thought it was pretty convenient, considering she’s planning a birthday party,” he explained nonchalantly. Lestat looked confused suddenly.

“Your friend is planning a birthday party for me? Why?”

“No, for me... wait, do you mean your birthday is soon?” oh god, they did not seriously both not know the other's birthday, especially if they were coming up. 

“Indeed, on the seventh. And yours is coming up too then?” Lestat said, both stunned and amused in equal amounts.

Armand wanted to sink into the ground.

“We’ve talked about everything, I’ve told you things I’ve never said out loud before and we don’t even know each other’s birthdays? I think we’re going in the wrong order,” Armand said desperately. “Mine is on the eleventh.”

“Well, do not worry about it too much. I almost forgot about it anyway, otherwise I would’ve told you before. I think Antoinette is planning a party, however. You could come, too.”

“You want me to come?” he did not ask, because he thought Lestat wouldn’t want him to come, but rather because he rather wouldn’t want to go. He despised most of Lestat’s friends, especially the ones Antoinette would most likely invite.

“Of course I’d want you to come. I always want to be with you,” and that settled that. If Lestat wanted him to be there, he would be there.

Now, he only had to think about a gift for Lestat.

Arriving at the roommates’ flat on Saturday, Armand could tell Lestat was turning his charm up to a maximum to impress his friends. It was equally irritating and charming. 

Lestat immediately greeted Tanja and Lucy with a double cheek kiss, which meant both of them fell for him from the get go. Meanwhile Sarah and Todd were still in the kitchen preparing dinner.

“Wonderful to meet you, beautés d’Armand ,” he greeted the two women. Armand was sure he was exaggerating his accent at least a little.

“Oh, you’re actually French,” when Lucy actually started to giggle, Armand felt like he was losing his mind.

“Why would I lie about that?” he asked, keeping the despair he felt out of his voice as best as he could.

“Honestly, I just thought you wanted to convey he was a white guy without having to outright say it,” Tanja answered honestly. Armand just stared at her baffled.

Once Sarah and Todd came out of the kitchen into the livingroom, Lestat greeted her the same way. Todd, he gave a firm handshake and so did Armand, after also hugging the girls like he always did.

Todd seemed nice. Clearly a little bit of a stereotypical jock, with his oversized hoodie and backwards baseball cap, but overall he was polite and cheery.

They first had dinner together, which did not always happen during these gettogethers, but considering the double boyfriend introduction Sarah insisted on it this time. They kept it simple, the three girls and Todd having prepared pasta and bolognese, before they even arrived ready to eat immediately once Armand and Lestat were present.

The conversation flowed easily, mostly about their respective majors and minors and Lucy’s and Tanja’s jobs, as well as pop culture topics, like music and movies. 

At one point Tanja launched into a tirade against Eli Roth’s role in the horror genre which was delightful to them except for Todd and Lestat, caught off guard by Tanja’s sudden and unusual passion. The other three had heard the speech multiple times before, but were still delighted by it every time they heard it.

Once dinner was finished, they moved to pull out some of the board games from the storage closet, though Sarah stopped the preceding before they could even select which to start.

“Wait, we first have to discuss Armand’s party!” she announced.

“Or not,” Armand whispered, mostly to himself.

“Come on, it doesn’t have to be big, just let us do something, you’re the only one celebrating anytime soon, Lucy’s isn’t until February.”

“Actually, it’s also Lestat’s soon, before mine even,” he interjected.

“But my party is already planned , toutes mes excuses, ma belle ,” he told Sarah, who was just shortly delighted by someone speaking French with her. Still, she quickly recovered.

“Wait, both your birthdays are next week?” Sarah was baffled now.

“We just realised ourselves,” explained Armand.

“Oh god, double Scorpios,” Lucy whispered in disbelief.

“Like you believe in Astrology,” Tanja scoffed, but Lucy was already on her phone googling.

Sarah was simply too bewildered to be annoyed at the derailing of the conversation that was taking place to interrupt it.

“Okay, here we go. ‘Scorpios can display contradictory behavioural patterns, often clouded by jealousy and mistrust…’” she read out loud.

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Armand started.

“Not something I’m familiar with,” Lestat said at the same time.

Both of them were already primed to be dismissive of anything she would present from some bogus website. Lucy continued pretty undisturbed by their protests.

“’Scorpio is also the sign closest associated with sexuality and intimacy’,” she read.

“Oh yes, naturally,” Lestat said.

“That one makes a lot of sense,” Armand murmured.

The others stared at them in silence now. Lucy just chuckled a little.

“Anyway, what about the party?” Sarah urged again, regaining control of the conversation.

“Okay,” Armand finally relented after that brief intermission. “No big party with a bunch of people I don’t even know. What if I let you take me to a club, is that alright?”

Judging by the excited faces of all three women that seemed to be the answer they wanted from him and they could finally commence the game section of the evening.

They decided to play charades, considering for the first time they were both enough people and even numbers. Tanja and Lucy paired themselves together, before the couples could even express that they’d be teams.

This normally would be a bit of a problem, considering in those scenarios couples ended up caring more about each other than the game, and that was most certainly true for Sarah and Todd. But to Tanja and Lucy’s delight, Armand and Lestat’s combativeness would always be more intense than anything else when it came to any type of competition. 

This type of competitiveness was also more aimed at each other than anyone else despite being on the same team. Armand cursed Lestat’s comically absurd guesses, while Lestat blamed Armand’s absolute inability to mime anything coherent.

“A fly?” Lestat asked at Armand’s gesturing, nearing the end of their round.

Armand simply moved his arms harder, but Lestat seemed lost for words.

Armand stopped his motion and hung his head down just as the alarm rang.

“ Putain! What was it?”

“An angel,” Armand said.

Lestat instantly softened up.

“You should’ve just stood there and done nothing, I would’ve guessed that in two seconds,” he said like it was the most obvious action.

“This game is stupid,” Armand simply sulked. “It's your turn.”

He sat back on the couch, between Lestat and Sarah, who was basically sitting in Todd’s lap by now, while Lucy picked up one of the prompt cards and positioned herself in the middle of the room.

Lucy held her arm up, hand curled like it was holding something and let it quickly fall down in a hitting motion.

“Hammering?” Tanja started. “Cutting? You’re cutting something, something hard? Wood? Bone? You’re butchering something? A butcher!”

“Yes!” Lucy triumphed and immediately picked up the next card.

By the end of the game Tanja and Lucy won with twenty-four points, Armand and Lestat had accumulated three, mostly by luck, and Sarah and Todd were making out on the far end of the couch. 

Overall, a successful evening even if Armand and Lestat still argued over how to imitate a flamingo best on the way home. They luckily made up the moment they entered their room.

It seemed like they fell into a peaceful rhythm, although they rarely let each other out of sight. Finding each other the moment both of them were free from college obligations.

The one immediate contention that was left now was Armand’s complete and utter disinterest in Lestat’s birthday party. Obviously, he wanted to celebrate Lestat’s birthday to its full extent; it was simply Antoinette's party that he dreaded. He feared he would have to all but relive the humiliating events of the campus fest as irrational as it was. Just entering that very flat again seemed like a nightmare in and of itself, let alone face Lestat’s less generous friends.

He tried to get over it by finding the best possible gift for Lestat. Maybe if he could physically express his devotion to Lestat the target area to attack their relationship would decrease. It was a long shot, but better than just letting Lestat’s friends steamroll everything they had built together by simply spouting some nasty comments about it and Armand in particular.

So the search for a good gift was on, striking the perfect balance between personal and admirable. He scoured any type of shop he could think of for something that would please Lestat. From conventional convenience stores, electronic stores, to antique shops. 

For any other person he would simply listen to them, until they casually mentioned something that would hint towards a particular gift. Like how they always wanted to read a certain book, or how they haven’t been to the movies in a while, and then just get them the book or a gift card for the theatre.

But with Lestat he simply did not have enough time for that strategy, not even thinking about things like birthday gifts before they got together, their status was always a little too unstable for that. Additionally, his schedule was full enough, worrying about Lestat’s potentially coming up birthday wasn’t a priority before.

One idea he had was to give Lestat something truly personal, screw what his friends might think or say. He thought maybe one of his rings, but the symbolism of giving your partner a ring seemed a little heavy this early in the relationship, even for them.

Then he remembered that he consistently saw Sarah, Lucy and Tanja wear matching bracelets, once he asked them about it and they simply said that they were friendship bracelets that they made together. He immediately texted them about it and they were more than willing to help him on short notice. But he still needed a main gift, something actually meaningful in its own right.

But, after scouring store after store, he found nothing. It slightly scared him; like he might not know Lestat as well as he thought. Surely, if they understood each other on this profound level like he assumed, finding a simple birthday present should be the easiest task in the world. But here he was defeated and without any plan just a few days out from Lestat’s birthday, except a small, probably oversentimental trinket.

It wasn’t until he was walking back towards the campus from one of his numerous trips to another store to find a gift, that something in a windowfront caught his eye and the epiphany came to him at once. Yes, this was absolutely perfect, he thought at that very moment, truly an epiphany.

Only once Armand actually bought it and stored the gift away in his closet, so Lestat would not find it, did he develop doubts about the gift. Would it bring up unintended negative feelings? It was tied to some incredibly tumultuous events in Lestat’s life after all. He simply pushed the doubts away and hoped Lestat would like it. Would recognise the thoughtfulness of Armand’s intent.

The morning of Lestat’s birthday Armand woke up deliberately early to sneak out of their room while Lestat was still in deep slumber. He was lucky the other man was such a heavy sleeper, never waking before his own alarm urged him on.

Armand went to the café arriving a little early before opening time, therefore having to wait a couple of minutes in front of the still closed shop, before he was first in the door to buy a fresh piece of chocolate cake along their usual coffee order for both himself and Lestat.

Once he was back in the room he put the slice of cake and their coffees down on his desk, before checking that all the presents were in their right place.

Then he turned to Lestat sleeping soundly in his bed, one arm slung over his pillow before his face. Armand couldn’t hold back the slew of emotions that flooded him, just watching Lestat like that. The desire to touch him, really feel him was truly overwhelming to his own senses.

He went over to Lestat’s bed and simply started raining down kisses on Lestat’s face to wake him. Lestat woke up slowly at first, stirring slightly, before he unexpectedly tried to swat him away, almost hitting him in the face.

“Hey, maybe don’t start your birthday by breaking your boyfriend’s nose,” Armand sulked, while retracting his face away from Lestat’s swinging hands.

Lestat seized his movements, groggily waking up more fully now and sat up to look at Armand, still pretty sleepy looking.

“Don’t attack my face with your mouth while I’m sleeping and I won’t, imp,” he said, but he didn’t sound angry. Then the realisation hit him, Armand’s words finally connecting in his foggy mind. “Wait… it’s my birthday.” 

He started to grin and Armand couldn’t help but respond in kind.

“Yeah, it is, so excuse me if I try to wake you gently,” he answered, before he took the already served cake, a singly burning candle atop, from his desk over to Lestat sitting in his bed. “Happy birthday!”

He handed the cake and coffee to Lestat alongside a long kiss, not caring about Lestat’s breath, though keeping it rather chaste.

“Mh, thank you,” he readily accepted, blowing the candle out, eyes closed, an unheard wish on his lips, before he took a bite moaning in delight.

“Do you want your gift now?” Armand asked, savouring Lestat's look of satisfaction at the taste of the cake, the coffee he brought to him, and the kiss he received.

“You can give it to me tonight at the party, like everyone else. Unless it’s something that should stay behind closed doors,” he jested.

“As always,” though he knew they were long past that, made all the more evident by Lestat snorting at the comment. “You’re right, I guess. I can… give it tonight.”

“What is it?” Lestat picked up on his dejected tone, before taking another bite and started to sip on his coffee again.

“Can I be honest?” Armand asked, before sitting down on the bed, to be level with Lestat.

“Always. That’s our thing now, remember?” he responded, before he picked up a piece of cake with his fork and held it up to Armand in question.

Armand took the bite, the rich chocolate flavour exploding on his tongue, making him savour the offer deeply, before responding to Lestat’s inquiry.

“I don’t want to go to the party. I want to be here for you on your birthday, but I simply don’t like Antoinette and let’s be honest, she doesn’t like me either. And neither do most of her friends, who I know will be there, don’t deny it,” Armand asserted without any remorse.

“Well, some of them are also my friends,” Lestat protested.

“Exactly why they’ll be there,” Armand stated. “I just don’t want our first test as a couple to be on your birthday. Because I’m sure they’ll try to question us. Or at least me. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Of course, I do. I had the same concern actually,” Lestat said, pausing to take a bite before offering another to Armand, who once again accepted it. “You know what, stay here. Read a book, study, whatever. You don’t have to come, we don’t have to spend every second together, no matter the occasion. Maybe doing something like this without the other once in a while would be good for us, we have become a little… reliant on each other."

Armand threw him a questioning look at that statement.

“I’m aware, we’ve only been together for a short time, but when was the last time we were apart outside of differing classes?” Armand thought about this for a moment and realised they literally had not been away from each other once outside of fulfilling obligations. Lestat had a point.

“So, we just have dinner together tonight and then I go to the party. You only have to promise you’ll wait up for me, alright?”

“I will,” Armand said. Yes, a short separation would probably do them good. He tried to not even consider what that would mean for Lestat’s likely absence during the upcoming break.

“However, I do want my gift now, then,” Lestat said slightly defiantly.

Armand only smiled and went over to his desk to first get the silver bracelets out of one of his desk drawers, handing the one with a little A pendant on it to Lestat, who looked at it curiously.

“I got the idea from the roommates. It was just a simple chain, they helped me put the pendant on it. They have their identical friendship bracelets and I thought we could have our own matching version. The A is for my initial,” he pulled out the other one, with an L attached. “See, I have my own. But that’s not all.”

Lestat was still staring at the bracelet Armand had handed him, while he went over to his closet, putting the bracelet on, opening it to pull out the second gift he hid there. He turned around, to show Lestat the guitar he intended as his main gift. He continued before he could even take in Lestat’s reaction.

“You told me that story about practising guitar in the attic and it was one of the only times you sounded happy, while telling me what happened to you. I don’t know how far you have come with your practice, but if you want to I can teach you a little. My guardian taught me how to play a couple of instruments, including guitar. I’m not a master at it or anything, but I know how to get started again, if you want I can show you,” he went over to the bed and laid the guitar out in front of Lestat.

An expression of awe overtook the other man’s face looking up at Armand, suddenly feeling shy at that. Lestat kept looking between the bracelet still in his hand and the instrument before him. Armand couldn’t even truly read what he was feeling now, the way his features were shaped was indescribable, his brows slightly furrowed and his mouth hanging open a bit. 

Then he started to cry. Actual sobs leaving his mouth, tears freely flowing down his face. Armand was stunned.

“Thank you… this is absolutely amazing,” Lestat continued on through deep sobs. “I don’t even know what to say, this is… thank you.”

He stood up, put his now empty plate aside, and hugged Armand so hard and fast, Armand didn’t even have his arms free to hug him back, too tightly pressed to his sides by Lestat’s encircling him. All the while, Lestat continued to cry into his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asked, perplexed by this unexpected reaction.

“Like it?” Lestat retreated at that question to look at Armand again, the tears so disconcerting to look at. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten, not that there is much competition, but still…” he finally put the bracelet on, then stared at it again, more tears flowing from his eyes.

“But you’re crying,” Armand said, while moving one hand to his face to wipe some of them gently away.

“I’m just so happy. Happy to have you,” he moved to kiss Armand, his lips tasting salty from his tears. “I love you, Armand.”

The whisper of the words was soft against his lips.

Armand, true to his word, was still awake, once Lestat came home from his party that night. It was sooner than he expected, only barely past one am.

Armand put his book aside on his nightstand and then looked at Lestat. He expected him to be a total mess, completely sloshed, but he seemed incredibly composed.

“How was the party?” he asked, before Lestat even acknowledged him.

“Good enough,” he said, still not looking at him. “You were right, they are quite judgemental, I should’ve known. I left early, to be here with you now,” he finally turned his gaze towards Armand, looking more vulnerable than he ever did before. “Do not question it too much, please.”

They agreed they should be able to stay apart and they had. It did not matter that Lestat had cut his own party short to be with Armand again. He was gone and it went fine. And now he was back and that was fine, too. Co-dependency required a lot more than wanting to be close especially in a relationship this fresh. Armand did not question him at all, how could he?

A half hour later he was spread out on Armand’s bed looking up at him emitting silent moans and sobs. Armand’s thrusts were slow and careful for once keeping Lestat just on the right side of too soft, too much. They did not say a lot, but when they did it was only to voice words of love and admiration. At one point Lestat simply stared up at Armand completely transfixed.

“Your eyes are so deep and dark. Like I’m looking through a telescope out into the universe,” Lestat proclaimed.
Armand felt like he was holding a precious price, something so fragile, like he was scared to break him. Lestat’s skin seemed like porcelain underneath his delicate fingers. Lestat in turn held him tight, so tight, barely letting him move at all, like he was scared to let go of him in any way. Like Armand could float away into that same universe he saw in his eyes.

The days between Lestat’s and his own birthday went by quickly, it finally felt like they were settling into a routine. They did not cling quite as tightly to each other as before, not having the urge to spend literally every free second with each other after they accepted they did not need to do everything together.

Though, from time to time he did wonder why he was alone reading in the library when he could be across campus sitting on Lestat’s lap while hanging out with his friends, damned that he did not care for them. Ignoring that he rationally knew he preferred reading alone. He just wanted to be with Lestat every second of every day right now dreading the winter break and the three weeks separation it would bring. 

But those moments were fleeting and then he was absorbed in his book again and time passed and suddenly it was Saturday and they were about to collect the girls to go to a club they had picked out.

Just when they finished getting dressed, Armand was already picking up his jacket to put on before leaving the room when Lestat stopped him and sat them down on his bed.

“Alright, before we go, I have one gift for you already, mon chèr , but feel free to say no I can always cancel it if you want,” Lestat said in his usual uncooperative tone.

“What is it, Lestat?” he asked, rightfully annoyed. “But I swear to god, if it has to do with another bet—”

Before he could finish Lestat pulled his hand out from behind his back holding some tickets. Were they for a concert of an artist Lestat liked and Armand couldn’t stand? Or some event in the far future that would clearly indicate an unwarranted faith in the longevity of their romance?

He took the tickets out of Lestat’s hands to have a look at them. On closer inspection he quickly realised they were plane tickets. He questioningly looked up at Lestat for clarification.

“I want you to come with me to France over the winter break,” Lestat said, as cheerful as he could, but Armand could hear the underlying worry of rejection in his voice. “What do you say?”

Chapter Text

Lestat had paused clearly waiting for an answer while Armand was sent reeling, time passing in slow motion. Lestat wanted Armand to come to France with him? His home? Over the entire break?

Here he was despairing again and again over their coming separation and now Lestat offered the easiest answer to the problem. Simply not being apart like it was the most natural and obvious solution?

Especially after the whole ‘we need to do things alone sometimes’-spiel he hadn’t expected this from Lestat. If anything he thought he was being primed for a break by him.

“Armand?” Lestat finally prompted, evidently put on edge even more by Armand's lack of response.

“You want me to come to Auvergne? To your home?” he felt like clarifying just to be sure.

“Yes, to the estate,” Lestat affirmed. “See where I’m from, spend time with me, meet my mother. I can even take you hunting if you want. It’s in the countryside so there are some beautiful spots to check out. A hill behind the house has a beautifully romantic view and the garden itself is incredibly large and beautifully arranged,” he waxed on and on about how wonderful it all looked and was it blurred all together in Armand’s still confused mind.

“And ultimately, I don’t want to be separated from you for that long when we just truly came together. It’s a selfish desire, a vice really, but will you indulge me?” Armand decided to focus on his last request.

“Precisely! Isn’t this a bit fast? I mean, meeting your mum already… We’ve only been together for a fortnight exactly and winter break is almost twice that long away.”

“Oh come on, Armand. It’s only been official for two weeks, but this has been going on for months between us. Since we met basically. So yes, I want you to come home with me. Or do you have other plans? Sitting in church all day honouring Jesus?”
“You know I’m not religious in that way Lestat I’m just not militant about it,” he rolled his eyes, keeping the ‘like you are’ unsaid. “I guess, I’m just worried about the serious implications involved in going home to someone’s family and no offence especially in your case.”

Lestat started to grin, clearly gaining some confidence the more apparent it got that most of Armand’s protests were futile mirages.

“You’re scared of my mother, aren’t you?” he asked as a gleeful taunt, a feral smile spreading across his face.

“Well, you did not make her sound too pleasant now, did you?” Armand responded haplessly. “And she’s clearly protective over you…” he trailed off, not even sure what his ultimate point was. All he was sure of was that Lestat’s descriptions of his mother did not paint a favourable picture of her in his mind.

“You’ll be fine she’ll… actually I don’t know how she’ll react to you, but either way you’ll manage her I’m sure.”

Not the most reassuring words considering his already negative judgement, but after all Lestat was not aware of that anyway. Armand simply took it in having already accepted that he will say yes to Lestat regardless.

Of course he will. He was so scared of their separation there was no way he would reject a straight offer that would avoid being away from Lestat. And honestly three weeks basically alone in the French countryside with Lestat sounded like heaven.

“Alright, I’ll come with you to France. I’ll come home with you.”

Lestat immediately perked up and went to hug Armand and so he, with nothing else left to respond with, hugged him back melting into the embrace.

This was right. He did not want to be separated from Lestat any longer than he had to, especially not for weeks on end without any stimulus outside of writing papers and maybe researching for Jon. He wanted to be around Lestat and that was normal. Natural even.

“It will be absolutely wonderful, you’ll see. We don’t have to celebrate anything or give gifts; it’s just going to be a vacation. I’ll show you the village nearby. They actually have a really nice inn!” Lestat rambled on overjoyed.

“I already said yes, you don’t have to convince me,” Armand giggled at his overexcited proposals.

The request itself, alongside Lestat’s genuine excitement at Armand’s agreement, were reassuring at the very least. It more than established that Lestat wasn’t just indulging Armand; he truly valued him. And clearly wanted him around as much as possible. This wasn’t a bond born out of convenience but true desire. Deep down he already knew that and everything Lestat did pointed to it. Still, internal doubt was a hard enemy to fight and further confirmation only helped snuff out any doubt that still arose within.

“Oh, now I wish I could just keep you for myself, I don’t even want to go out anymore,” Lestat said while plastering kisses all over Armand’s cheek and neck.

“Well, I do now so you can either come with or stay here alone,” Armand said while standing up, entangling himself from Lestat’s embrace to finally put on his jacket.

Lestat, slightly miffed by Armand’s quick dismissal, just put on his own and picked up his gift for Armand and led him towards the door.

“Can’t I just open that here?” Armand asked cheekily, already knowing how Lestat would respond.

“No, you’ll open it with the rest at Sarah’s place,” he said resolutely, and that was that.

Once they arrived at the girls’ flat all three of them were ready, perfectly styled in equally short cocktail dresses. Armand had the probably obvious suspicion that they were using his birthday as an excuse to party, but he did not mind. And after all, Lestat seemed simply delighted.

“You are visions, beautés ,” Lestat stated enthusiastically while greeting them in his usual double kiss manner which they cheerfully accepted.

The three of them greeted Armand with the happiest of birthday wishes before making him sit down at the dinner table, a cake before him with exactly twenty-four lit candles on top.

He went to blow them out only to be stopped so they could actually sing ‘happy birthday’ for him. He put his face in his hand, a giant grin breaking out on his face while listening to a pitchy rendition of the stupid song glad they could not see his reaction.

“Okay, now blow them out,” Sarah prompted after they finished and gave themselves applause for their performance.

Once he did, keeping his wish private, they put the cake away with the promise they’ll eat it for breakfast in the morning then laid out all the gifts on the table. Just to spite Lestat he purposefully opened the girls’ gifts first. They reassured him that the gifts were from all of them together so he simply opened them with no other regards for the order, though he still had a hunch which gifts were who’s idea for the most part.

A blue-ray copy of Time Bandits, the collective poems of T.S. Eliot, four tickets to the production of ‘No Exit’ their college was performing the coming year, and a beautiful solid matte silver ring he immediately put on. All these gifts made him deeply emotional. It was clear his friends truly understood him and accepted him into their group without question.

The last gift he opened, the largest one, astounded him the most. Just based on the shape he assumed it to be a large picture or portrayed. Instead it turned out to be a medium sized canvas, alongside some brushes and paint.

He knew this must’ve been Lucy’s suggestion. She was the only one, besides Lestat of course, who he ever told about having a knack for painting, though he had given up on it nowadays. And the gift did stir some complicated emotions within him which none of the people present would know, so he simply smiled and thanked them.

However, much like a career as a lawyer, for the longest time this particular hobby was bound too closely to his master’s designs for him, the activity too painful. During the time he was with him if he was not studying, he was painting and he did neither for his own but for the man’s desire. That he despised doing the former, while relishing in the latter activity did not make much of a distinction, their purpose was still the same. Neither would feel like his own will, he was assured about that for the longest time. 

Except, he had at least enjoyed sketching and drawing ever since he could remember, his time with his guardian only developed those skills further, expanded them, while studying law was never something he would’ve shown interest in on his own. So yes, drawing and painting felt like something he might be able to reclaim for himself. And with the amount of time that had passed since then he more and more wanted to take it up again. All of it.

Therefore he was certainly overwhelmed by the gift, but also glad for it. Painting again? Despite all his trepidations he would love to do that again soon. His uncertainty was being outweighed by his curiosity for it more and more nowadays.

He hugged them all and thanked them with complete sincerity.

Then he finally opened Lestat’s gift. Even through the packaging he could tell it was something soft probably made out of cloth. He carefully separated the tape that was, rather crudely, attached to the wrapping paper trying not to tear it. When he finally loosened it enough to slide the object out of the paper it was certainly something made out of cotton, but clearly not something meant to be worn. He couldn’t even guess what it was while unfolding it.

“Is it a blanket?” he finally asked, standing up to hold it out and have a proper look at it. 

It appeared to be a great amalgamation of different figures stitched onto the canvas with the backgrounds bleeding into one another. It was perfectly compositioned, the colours and scenes subtly interwoven. He quickly realised the stitching was depicting different scenes taking place between characters, but only once he took a closer look at the one in the centre did it all come together.

It was very clearly the scene from the end of Hamlet where Horatio offered to kill himself, but Hamlet made him promise to tell his tale instead. The way it was depicted was beautifully poetic, a dying Hamlet lying in Horatio’s arms pushing away the cup of poisoned liquor he was holding.

He looked at the other scenes, all from various Shakespeare plays, some of them iconic like Lady MacBeth washing imaginary blood from her hands to personal favourites of his like Desdemona affirming her love for Othello.

“A blanket or a tapestry however you’d want to use it. I had it handmade, picked out the scenes myself thinking about which you’d like,” Lestat remarked.

“But how? This is so intricate it must’ve taken months. You only knew about my birthday for a little more than a week,” he said, still astonished by all the details and how all the individual scenes still made one coherent composition. It was so beautiful he felt like he could look at it forever and never stop finding new details to be astounded by.

“I actually commissioned it a while ago. I planned to give it to you once we were going to part. At the time I thought that might be by the end of the academic year so I wanted it to be ready. I gave some updated notes which scenes to add once I got to know you more though you gladly gave a lot away when we discussed Shakespeare early in class,” he smiled almost cheekily. “Now that I don’t want to part from you I thought it would make a fine birthday gift instead,” he sincerely explained.

A parting gift? Armand actively despised Lestat, thinking the worst of him while also admittedly obsessing over him, meanwhile Lestat made sure to have a personal gift ready to say goodbye? And now it wasn’t needed as a parting gift anymore. Because he no longer planned to say goodbye.

Armand carefully draped the cloth over the back of the chair, before he swiftly went to kiss Lestat pouring all his emotions into it, hoping it would express his deepest gratitude to him. 

They were lost in the kiss, the emotions, and each other’s presence for a moment until Tanja performatively cleared her throat to remind them of the presence of the other people still in the room. They parted slightly flushed in equal parts from the act itself as well as the slight embarrassment over getting so lost in it.

“So, can we actually leave to go to the club before one of you starts to cry?” Lucy asked impatiently.

He wanted to call her out for being overdramatic, but he did actually feel some tears welling up so the suggestion was probably wise.

“Alright, let’s go,” Armand replied abashedly.

They arrived outside just in time for their ordered Uber to pull up. They all piled into the car to take them to the club selected by Lucy, finally celebrating Armand’s birthday together.

They entered the club and the atmosphere was as expected dark, loud, and cramped. It was a gay club, a little old school, evidenced by Madonna playing loud enough to drown out most conversation. The crowd was mostly male though there was a fair share of women present as well, most of them identifiably queer. Sarah and Tanja probably weren’t the only straight women, but definitely among the few and it now made sense why Todd was not brought along besides still being a stranger to Armand.

The girls immediately steered them towards the bar to order drinks then quickly left to find a table while the song switched, Cher now playing loudly. They had to wait a little before the server noticed them, the bar being by far the busiest area around. Even though they just entered, Armand could already feel eyes on them while they stood there waiting, which wasn’t surprising. The few times he had gone to gay bars back in England he never left without at least a few propositions no matter how short his stay was and the fact he never took any of them up. Well, except that one time. But especially now with someone as good looking as Lestat by his side he was certainly not surprised at some glances being thrown their way.

Once the bartender finally found some time for them Armand ordered for all of them. Lucy only wanted a beer, while Sarah and Tanja went for Piña Coladas. Armand ordered a Cosmopolitan for himself and Lestat wanted a whiskey.

They soon found the girls sitting at a corner table a little away from the dancefloor where the music was not quite as drowning as it was at the bar.

“Thank you for indulging us on your birthday by the way I know this is not normally your scene,” Sarah said, while accepting the drink Armand was handing her, before he helped Lestat who balanced the other two girls’ beverages alongside his own.

He quickly took the girls’ drinks off Lestat after putting his own down and gave them to the girls before they finally sat down.

“Well, I suggested it and I do enjoy being here with you now,” he stated candidly.

“Does that mean I can’t leave to hit up that girl over there?” Lucy asked, after taking a large sip of her beer.

He turned to see who she was looking at and spotted a short girl with a sunny disposition talking to someone who was presumably her friend.

“That was quick,” he stated with some mirth, but relented easily. “Of course you can,” and she was gone immediately.

“So, what are your plans for winter break?” Tanja asked after a little while, speaking a little louder over the music still playing though it seemed they did play some modern stuff too, a Sam Smith song being on at the moment.

“We will go to France,” Lestat responded quickly.

“Just decided,” Armand added slightly derisively. “Though I won’t look forward to the security check. The wankers questioned me for like half an hour when I arrived here.”

“Curious,” Lestat said. “They simply welcomed me with a warm ‘Welcome to America, Mister Lioncourt’... although they did pronounce my name wrong.”

“Wonder why,” Tanja muttered ironically and clearly dismayed.

Armand simply stared at Lestat for a moment, not upset, just slightly astounded and amused.

“Let’s just hope our travels will go easier,” Lestat supposed, looking at Armand ruefully realising the faux pa on his side.

“Sure, however we should finish our drinks soon if you actually want to dance anytime soon,” Armand suggested to Sarah’s and Tanja’s delight.

Everyone at the table pretty quickly finished their drinks and they soon found themselves amongst the many moving bodies on the dancefloor.

At first they danced as a group with Lucy and her new acquaintance joining in for a while. They were all simply absorbed into the energy of the room swaying their bodies in time with the ever changing rhythm of the different beats. Lucy and her newly acquired interest quickly left and Armand and Lestat both yearned for more intimate dancing, so the longer the night went on the more they separated.

Armand and Lestat ended up close together while dancing and simply rested each other’s arms on the other’s shoulders while moving together. The longer the more upbeat music continued the more they let go of each other simply dancing together while ignoring the relentless lustful stares from others aimed at them.

“I have to go to the bathroom, be right back,” Lestat said loudly over the music before letting go of Armand and stepping away.

Armand continued dancing, mostly by himself before finding the girls again for a bit to join them until a guy smoothly fitted himself in front of Armand. He was fairly good looking with dark hair and brown eyes and Armand found himself swaying with him for a bit while keeping a respectable distance between them.

“What’s your name?” shouted the guy over music after apparently seeing an opportunity for a come-on. Armand got ready to shoot him down when someone answered for him.

“His name’s Armand,” shouted Lestat from behind him with some faux politeness. “And I’m Lestat, his boyfriend.”

Armand quickly turned to look at Lestat who was wearing a tight smile, while also staring daggers at the other guy over Armand’s shoulder, placing a hand on his hip.

“Sorry dude, didn’t mean to hit on your man. Congrats.”

The other man simply turned away, already spotting another guy to pursue. Armand continued dancing with Lestat again, a little amused by his sudden possessiveness. Lestat on the other hand seemed properly pissed.

“Come on, we were just dancing, it was nothing,” he teased, picking up on Lestat’s suddenly sour mood. “You know I have no interest in anyone else.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about, it's them,” Lestat stated, accepting Armand’s offer to dance together again. He tightened the grip on his waist almost dominantly dragging their bodies together. “Every guy in this fucking club is leering after you. It's to be expected, but they could at least have some decorum.”

“You’re mad,” Armand simply laughed, but when he looked around again he could still see a lot of the guys openly staring at them. “They could just as much be looking at you.”

“Trust me they’re not at least most of them. You’re simply enchanting on a different level, mon charmant ange. ”

Lestat pulled him closer again, starting to kiss him probably just to signal to most guys around them how much Armand was his. It honestly felt nice to know just how possessive Lestat was over him. And he would never mind Lestat’s mouth on his, every kiss between them searing and passionate. 

This quickly devolved into them shamelessly making out in the middle of the floor while completely disregarding the numerous people around them. They melted into it, the moment just for them. Grabbing at each other letting their mouths intermingle like this while the beat of yet another pop song drowned out the desperate little noises they made.

Just when it felt like they were only a few moments away from one of them dragging the other into a dark corner in the club or perhaps straight to the alley out back before the girls pulled them apart so they could dance together as a group again.

Once the clock approached three a.m. Armand was beyond tired, mostly just leaning on Lestat now. The girl Lucy was talking to was already gone and even Sarah and Tanja were winding down. The only one still going strong was Lestat, but he quickly noticed Armand’s lack of enthusiasm which basically robbed him of his own too.

All five of them went back to the roommates’ flat together to sleep the few hours they had left before morning approached. Sarah graciously offered Armand and Lestat her bed, but the gentlemen that they were they reassured her that they'd be fine sharing the admittedly thin couch together.

So Lestat and Armand were sleeping on the couch with their limbs entangled, waking up about five or six times during the night to one of them almost falling off.

Well one time Lestat did fail to save himself only waking up half-way through his fall and his disoriented reaction was to grab Armand to hold onto ultimately taking him down with him. This resulted in both of them lying on the carpet sleepily suppressing their giggles for the next ten minutes to not wake the others up before they made their way back onto the couch and were quickly fast asleep again.

When it was time to get up the next morning they felt slightly groggy from the eventful night, but thankfully without any hangovers. Despite knowing they would spend the night there Armand and Lestat forgot most of their necessities, only really bringing some sleeping clothes with them. They had to share the one unused toothbrush the girls had stored away as well as use their bodywash and shampoo. Ah, the familiar passion fruit smell.

They showered separately which once again made Armand yearn for a shared one. Or maybe a bath, he was not picky. But he did feel weird about facing the others if they did that so he conformed to the circumstances. One day he would get his wish, he was certain. Now that he knew he was going back to France with Lestat, winter break really couldn’t come soon enough.

True to the girls’ words the previous night after they finished their showers, their breakfast consisted of all of them eating the cake together while drinking mediocre coffee from their overworked coffee machine. Sitting around the dining table like this felt awfully domestic, something Armand really could get used to.

“Last night was so fun you really should let us take you more often,” said Sarah over the lip of her steaming cup and the others nodded in agreement.

“It was fun, but god I’m beat I need some time to recover. After the winter break maybe,” he responded, before cherishing another bite of his cake.

“Ah, yes you guys get extended breaks,” Lucy remarked, in a way that clearly indicated she was not afforded such a luxury at her job. “Any plans?”

Armand smiled, but then Lestat answered once again before he could, dispensing a few more details. “Yes, Armand and I will visit my mother in France and spend a few weeks in the countryside.”

Lucy whistled at that.

“Wow, that’s really dreamy. I'm still jealous,” Tanja responded. “Don’t remember the last time I even went on vacation.”

All three girls were now lost in fantasies of their last vacation and so was Armand.

“I spent summers in Venice during some of my teen years, but haven't been anywhere else since. I didn’t have time to go on holiday really,” or the motivation, but he left that out.

“Then I’m glad you get to go now,” Sarah said empathetically as ever.

They finished breakfast and helped with the dishes before Armand gathered up his gifts from last night ready to leave with Lestat.

On the way out he could hear Sarah with slight discretion thanking Lestat for taking care of him. He was already through the door and felt awkward to turn back now so he did not hear Lestat’s response.

For the rest of the month Lestat and Armand simply existed together. Spent time together. They were eating, talking, studying, sleeping, fucking, reading, and everything in-between together. It was absolute bliss.

One night only a few weeks out from the coming break Armand lay in Lestat’s arms reading a book while Lestat seemed simply content with carding his hands through Armand’s curls in a soothing motion. He felt almost like a cat getting mindlessly petted like that, although he suspected Lestat was still reading along over his shoulder. They were currently in Lestat’s bed only switching between the beds by now, but never sleeping apart.

Lestat stopped the motion of his hand suddenly and instead turned his head to snuggle into Armand’s curls taking an audible inhale before he started talking.

“I never thought I’d have this, you know,” the sudden sentimentality caught Armand off guard. Lestat could be emotional, quite often even, but he was rarely sentimentally honest.

“How do you mean?” he asked, feigning nonchalance, continuing his reading.

“Just feeling so… secure. There’s so much I always had to face and deal with and it’s not like I don’t anymore, but at least there’s you waiting for me. I can count on you being there for me to return to.”

Armand didn’t know how to feel. Lestat needing him for the reassurance he provided felt nice, fulfilling even but also quite utilitarian in nature.

“So, that’s all I am?” he asked, putting the book down now. “A security blanket?”

Lestat immediately stiffened his posture, before he slowly raised his head while keeping Armand securely in his arms.

“No… not just security," he almost whispered before finding his voice. “Right now you’re everything, mon ange .”

The sweet words aside, Armand worried a bit. He loved Lestat that was certain but every other factor brought nothing but doubt. But how much would these factors actually matter going forward? After all, it ultimately felt wonderful to be needed by Lestat. That was all he desired from the very beginning. To be noticed by him. And now he got so much more, he was loved by him. Doubt aside, they were happy. Together.

“You’re everything to me too,” he whispered soundlessly and so they had said all there was to say.

Except, Lestat was still stressed. Immensely so. He thought of it as a fluke during the preparations for the midterms and simply a product of increased pressure, but now he realised it was a lot more.

It was clear that he wasn’t quite aware of how much stress still laced Lestat’s life in the period right after they got together most likely due to the beginning of their relationship easing Lestat quite a bit, but now that their relationship was settled the tension was creeping back into Lestat. If there was this same tension within Lestat before the midterms Armand had not noticed it. And if he had he most likely chalked it up to the tension that was still reigning between them even once they grew closer.

Now Lestat’s job was clearly weighing on him like it never had before. And the main sufferers were Lestat himself, as well as their still fresh relationship.

Lestat frequently left quite suddenly even during planned dates they were on, only to return hours later exhausted and overly cautious. He checked his phone an awful number of times like he was almost afraid of missing a text. Like some punishment awaited him if he did so even for just an hour or two.

It all was so exhausting to Armand just experiencing it secondhand he did not know how Lestat’s only response was this steadily growing fatigue. Anytime Armand tried to address it he was dismissed, Lestat reassuring him that he was doing well and all of it was just Lestat putting himself under pressure and how much of a relief their relationship provided in contrast.

Most times he did not mind Lestat leaving suddenly considering he always took time to say goodbye to him and made sure to tell Armand when he would be back which was almost always accurate. And it was not like Armand never had to cut their time together short because he had work scheduled. So what if Lestat was a little bit more spontaneous about it than him? Armand could adjust it was fine at least for himself.

The only real problem was how miserable it made Lestat, despite his placating reassurances. His exhaustion clearly wasn’t just the normal ‘I just worked really intensely’-type, he almost seemed drained every time he returned. Sometimes he came back really late, only having enough energy left to crawl into bed with Armand still fully clothed, falling asleep in his arms in a matter of minutes. Armand simply held him close, worries swivelling in his mind.

Another evening only a fortnight away from winter break they were out on a formal date, one quite fancier than the previous ones having dinner at a really nice restaurant. Armand was hesitant about it; he did not really have the means for such a place on his current budget even with his new job, but Lestat insisted on paying and so Armand reluctantly agreed.

The dinner was expensive, the food was excellent, and they had a pleasant conversation as always. On evenings like these with just the two of them together Lestat seemed more carefree than ever. On the rare occasion when there was nothing Lestat needed to immediately care about outside of making Armand happy he thrived. Meanwhile, Armand still felt like needing to adjust to having this much attention lavished upon him. He certainly preferred the quiet evenings together in their room with no outside interference to account for.

Just when Armand fully eased into being there, a type of restaurant he was once familiar with, but never thought he’d frequent again, Lestat's phone rang. He excused himself leaving towards the bathrooms for a couple of minutes.

Armand felt slightly offended by Lestat not simply ignoring the call before he considered that it might be an emergency, especially in regards to his mothers potential health troubles. That grace was immediately revoked once he saw Lestat return towards him with a rather apathetic facial expression, similar to the one that overtook him any other time he was called for sudden work obligations.

When Lestat arrived at the table he immediately threw some bills on it before giving Armand a quick exit line.

"Excuse me, but I sadly have to leave already, mon cher ,” he gave him a quick kiss and then he was out the door.

Armand felt deeply embarrassed, he didn’t know how to proceed and simply kept sitting there until a waiter approached. He tried to excuse Lestat’s sudden departure before having the leftovers packed up. The only real consolation was Lestat leaving more than enough money to cover a generous tip. Once he was out on the street the space where Lestat’s car was parked was vacant like he expected so Armand simply ordered a ride back to college waiting on the side of the pavement feeling the food slowly cooling in the containers he was holding.

Once Armand was alone in their room waiting he was utterly pissed. Lestat was still gone with no explanation, Armand’s text asking where he was still unread. It was fair to say that the evening had been utterly ruined by this sudden interruption.

It had started so nicely too. Armand had to concede he truly enjoyed eating dinner with Lestat in a fancy restaurant despite all of his reservations beforehand. He finally trusted Lestat to not disregard him for any reason, be it his youth, his financial situation or another person being more important to him. But now it was ruined by Lestat completely out of the blue. Clearly there was a person who took precedent over Armand and it happened to be the very person who made Lestat absolutely miserable.

Upon Lestat’s return to their room Armand did not even acknowledge him completely transfixed on his book about queer representation during the Hays Code.

“I’m sorry,” Lestat said, aware how upset Armand must be, though his voice sounded shallow and deprived. “I shouldn't’ve left in such a haste.”

“It’s fine,” though he did not look up from his book which certainly meant to indicate that it was not fine.

“If you’re angry with me, be honest about it. I thought we’ve been through this,” Lestat said.

“Alright, I’m pissed,” Armand responded letting his anger seep through, while putting the book aside to stand up. “What the fuck is important enough that you leave me alone in a restaurant I was already barely comfortable in to go god knows where?”

“My professor needed me,” his voice sounded unusually meek.

Armand laughed at that assertion. Of course he already suspected that the professor who employed Lestat was also the one who demanded his attention but this shameless admission truly displayed Lestat’s ignorance over the negative effect his job had on their relationship.
“Your professor needed you? What professor needs their assistant's help at eight on a Friday night?” Armand asked.

“I’m not his assistant, I’m his research partner,” protested Lestat.

“Come on, Jon gave me the same spiel of working with him, but you’re just a bachelor student in your first year. We're both more burden than help right now.”

“What? You think I can’t be of help? That I’m not brilliant enough to be a worthy cause—”

“I’m the first person who would attest to your brilliance!” Armand interjected, but Lestat simply went on ignoring his comment.

“—because he thinks of me as worthy and a great help actually. He needed my input before he could work on a new source he found and he precisely called me because he wanted to do it this weekend, but did not want to disturb me then. And he could not proceed without me because I am his partner!” Lestat ended his statement by resolutely walking over to his bed so he could sulk on it.

Armand collected himself before he more calmly approached a clearly wounded Lestat and he knew in an instant the insecurity did not just come from the argument they were having. Lestat was in greater distress for a while now and while Armand did not know the specific reason he had a general hunch. Still, he needed to be careful in case he redirected Lestat seething completely towards himself.

“Of course I know how smart you are and I’m sure you’re a great help,” he started trying to find words which would not cause a confrontation. He went and knelt down in front of a sitting Lestat taking his slumped down face into his hands, to make him look up at him. There were tears swelling in Lestat’s eyes and his expression was completely free from resentment. “But I’m worried about you. I feel like this position might put a lot of pressure on you or maybe you’re putting it on yourself, but it clearly stresses you out. And I do have a right to be mad at my boyfriend when he leaves me alone on a date he insisted on in the first place,” he finished.

Lestat looked at him so much more vulnerable now it was like the anger of the fight evaporated within him only leaving the exhaustion he so often returned with.

“Yes, you’re right, I shouldn't've left like that, that was my fault,” he said slowly. “And yes I do put a lot of pressure on myself for him. He just sees so much in me and puts a lot of his hopes on me, so when I don’t live up to it I feel like I have to punish myself.”

Armand heard that and could immediately feel empathy for Lestat. If that was not relatable to him what was? If anything he was lucky punishments were given to him swift and often when he didn’t live up to the ideals that were put on him, so feelings of guilt could not fester for too long even if shadows of them always lingered.

His situation obviously had been a completely different one, but he could see how similar expectations could build up with… what was this man to Lestat? A mentor? Most likely. Yes, certainly being someone’s protégé could come with that same crushing hope that one might never truly live up to, the kind he once knew too.

“I understand, I truly do,” he reassured. “But you know I’m here for you. If you ever feel doubt about your abilities all you have to do is initiate some kind of conversation with me and your praises will come to my lips with ease, you should know that by now.”

“And yours to mine,” Lestat responded, melancholy quickly replaced by an overtaking fondness for Armand kneeling before him. 

Armand decided to push Lestat down into the bed, then lay down beside him opening his arms. Lestat accepted the inviting gesture lying his head down on Armand’s chest.

“Thank you, mon ami ,” Lestat whispered into his pectoral muscle. “I will be more mindful of how these things might impact you. I never want to hurt you under any circumstances, first and foremost not because of my own self-doubt. I love you,” he turned soft, still tear-brimmed blue eyes towards Armand and if he hadn’t already forgiven Lestat he would’ve done so at that very moment.

“Because I have never hurt you because of mine?” he jested, then more softly. “I love you too, love.”

He placed a kiss on top of Lestat's head and they settled into a contented peace again. At least for now, which for them was good enough. They would always have to take this day by day. A moment at a time.

When winter break finally arrived Armand could not wait to get out of the US and back to Europe even if it was a different country. If anything that made it even more exciting. Seeing where Lestat was from finally getting to see something that shaped Lestat so intensely for himself.

They got through check-ins and security fairly easily, but now had a couple of hours left before boarding started and decided to go eat before the flight to avoid the airline meals. They found a fairly simple diner style restaurant where they ordered some sandwiches and a couple of cokes.

“What are you looking forward to the most?” asked Lestat sincerely, while they ate the honestly also mediocre airport food. “I mean, besides the secluded bedroom with an attached bathroom all for us alone.”

“Hm, I packed my art supplies so I want to get a canvas to try my shot at a landscape painting. You said there was a hill close by with an amazing view. Let's see if I can capture something,” Armand hadn’t started painting again after his birthday even though the gifted canvas had tempted him a lot, but he still felt disconnected from it. 

He did however start sketching again which felt like a step forward. He mostly drew innate objects around their room and well… Lestat. Quite a few sketches of Lestat, if he was honest. And the man certainly didn’t mind them. Sometimes Armand suspected Lestat was purposefully posing just to get him to pick up his sketchbook again.

“It is quite beautiful, yes, but if anything can elevate it, it will surely be your magnificent brush work. I will text the staff to get a canvas for you so it will be there when we arrive. I look forward to seeing the work once it is finished.”

“You’ll be the first one,” Armand assured him.

Once it was almost time for boarding they settled at their gate. Armand read while Lestat people watched, both perched next to each other in their uncomfortable seats. One time Lestat nudged Armand to look at a plane taking off outside. Lestat was slightly bouncing with either nervousness or excitement watching it, Armand couldn’t quite distinguish the emotions Lestat was feeling at the moment, perhaps a mix of both.

Once it was finally time they boarded the plane together and found their seats, everything so far going fairly well for their first trip together.

“Are you scared of flying?” Lestat asked, conversationally while putting away their hand luggage in the little cabinet above their seats, while Armand took the window seat.

“Not at all, I absolutely love flying. Planes are so fascinating; I once learned every model that is used in commercial flying,” he explained while Lestat sat down in the middle seat.

“Really? What plane is this one?”

“A Boeing 747, pretty standard for long-haul flights.”

“And what is standard for short-haul ones?” he asked with a small smile on his face.

“Well, there are multiple, most airlines use a few different ones, but the most common are turboprops or regional jets,” Armand explained sincerely.

Lestat was silent for a moment. Armand looked over to find Lestat simply staring at him with a certain bewildered awe.

“What?” Armand questioned.

“You unexpectedly know the most random things… it really does something for me,” he simply said before leaning over to give Armand a short kiss which he couldn’t help but smile into.

The flight was long enough for him to watch two movies in between reading while Lestat slept almost the entire time besides him, pretty much out right after take off.

He knew he should get some sleep too, but he was simply too engrossed by being on a plane he did not want to sleep through it. He did relent towards the end, his attention slowly giving away his eyes sliding from the pages before him. He ended up sleeping the last couple of hours before they landed around three am local time in Paris. It wasn’t the nearest airport to Lestat’s home, but the flight was both cheaper and more conveniently timed than the alternative, so they decided to take the longer drive in stride.

Getting through security was a much smoother process in France than it was in the US and before they knew it they got their luggage from the converter belt and headed to the car rental station to collect the keys for the car Lestat had reserved for their three weeks stay. Lestat’s own car was still parked in the college’s parking lot back in the US.

The drive from Paris to Auvergne was quite long, which made him glad that Lestat was fine with driving the entire way, after he got a lot more rest than Armand did during their flight.

He finally had some time to really sleep and Lestat let him, except for waking him during a rest stop, to go to the bathroom and get some snacks for the rest of the drive.

The sun rising was what truly woke him up at the end of their drive, he slightly opened his eyes and stretched out as much as possible in the narrow space of the passenger seat. Lestat occasionally looked over with a soft smile, while Armand was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“How far away are we now?” he asked Lestat, after a bit.

“Only half an hour now, you slept for quite a while.”

“That’s good. Oh, it’s almost nine and I’m still sleepy,” he remarked.

“Yeah, adjustment will be harder than it was after arriving in the US, we’ll be a little out of it for the next few days. You were smart not to sleep on the plane,” he said.

Oh, he hadn’t even considered it like that, but he took the compliment silently. He simply looked out the window, realising they were truly driving through the countryside now, mostly overlooking fields beyond occasional trees next to the road, the landscape only broken up by small villages with quaint houses from time to time.

A few minutes before arriving at their destination Lestat took a turn from the main country road they were on, onto a smaller road off to the side. The surroundings changed from wide fields to thick wooden areas around the road without any grassy barrier between the street and the treeline. The road grew ever more slender until it was simply a bumpy one way lane snaking through some thick woods.

Armand tried to see if he could spot anything besides trees when the woods stopped rather suddenly, a grey brick wall replacing the view, surprising Armand and making him grow more and more curious. He sat up trying to look up to see over it, but it was high enough for the window of the car not to capture its edge. Armand’s wonder grew immensely. He looked over to Lestat trying to see if he might offer an explanation, but the other man simply beamed at him before focusing on the road again.

Once they actually arrived at what was apparently their desired location Lestat wordlessly stopped the car by a large metal gate integrated into the wall they were passing and stepped out for a moment. Armand followed even though he realised by now that he underestimated how large Lestat’s home was and they probably still had to park the car in a garage near the main house.

They moved to stand in front of the car looking through the bars of the gate that separated them from a long path sneaking through a perfectly maintained lawn and ending in a round gravel area right in front of the double wooden doors of the Estate de Lioncourt.

Chapter Text

The mansion was vast; he could determine that even from afar just seeing the front of its exterior. Otherwise it was hard to tell just how much land there was around the building within the surrounding walls. He tried to see if he could spot the end of the wall, before Lestat already stepped away again, distracting him.

They wordlessly went back to the car, Armand not quite sure what to say and Lestat fiddling with his phone the entire time. Once they both settled down in the front seats the gate started to open just when the car's engine turned on again perfectly coordinated. Lestat drove through the open metal gate along the gravel patch approaching the mansion.

Looking at the building more closely Armand could make out a lot more details which only strengthened his image of Lestat’s inherited origins. The pale brick walls were immaculately clean and clearly constructed in pre-revolutionary times just like Lestat had described it to him. The facade of it alone was already stunning and probably matched what was to be found inside; endless rooms characterised by 18th century aristocratic decadence. Armand couldn’t stop looking at it while Lestat drove along the gravel path surrounded by the large, neatly trimmed lawn.

“You know when you called it an estate I thought you were exaggerating,” Armand said, slightly laughing with astonishment of where he was right now. “I thought it would be more like the house I lived in with my guardian, just a large country house but this is a castle.”

For the first time Lestat seemed slightly abashed.

“As I said, material wealth was never lacking… that sadly doesn’t improve my memories of the years I lived in it,” he explained.

“Then why not just sell it? Why put money into restoring it? Take the money and be set up for life. You could still buy your mother a new house, maybe something smaller, closer to a city? It could get lonely here, right?”

He couldn’t imagine living on his own like this with the only people around directly working for you. It would drive him crazy, this isolation. Even the time with his guardian was testing at times, the formal events however tedious a welcomed relive just by bringing some stimulation and interaction back into his life. And the group home never bothered him due to its proximity to others but more so who these others were and how little proximity to him they wanted.

“Trust me, the last thing my mother wants to do is get closer to a city, she thrives in seclusion. And I do hold attachment to the house despite everything. It’s still where I’m from, shows who I am,” simply calling this building a house felt like a sudden copout but Armand let it slide. Lestat was affected enough as it was.

“Hm, I guess I never had that type of attachment to a place, moving around so much,” Armand could only guess at that being the reason but what else could he say? He registered Lestat’s response and it made sense but he still couldn’t fully understand it.

Lestat only hummed at that like he himself also had no answer, could give no reason for his feelings and where they came from.

Lestat drove across the rounded ground in front of the doors to the manor before he steered left towards what most likely was the garage off to the side of the main house. Once it came into view it honestly looked more like a stable. Probably was one at some point. The doors already stood open but unlike the frontgate were wooden ones clearly opened by hand.

Once Lestat parked inside right by the entrance they were immediately greeted by a neatly lined up staff upon exiting the car. One man was clearly leading the rest, who was dressed in a spiff suit while the others were in personal clothes but clearly pragmatic ones.

Two of these staff members were more than happy to take their luggage to their room for them and immediately left once they gathered everything including their backpacks. Armand was slightly bewildered by this but resigned himself to it even if just to win some time to figure out what exact circumstances he found himself in now. Lestat had been sparse on the details of the current situation of his home and he always had trepidations around asking to not invoke trauma of the past.

He looked around the spacious garage which was relatively empty only housing two other cars besides the rental they just parked with a lot of parking spaces left empty. Despite his obvious wealth Lestat did not seem to indulge in excessiveness himself.

“Monsieur de Lioncourt, welcome home,” said the one wearing an actual suit at nine a.m., an elderly man and clearly the main butler of the household and the coordinator for the rest of the staff. “We hope you will have a pleasant break from your studies. And welcome to your guest, Monsieur…?” he trailed off in a question directed towards Armand.

“Armand is fine,” was all he had to say not expecting all this formality. After all he didn’t expect a staff to greet them at all despite Lestat’s comment before the flight about calling someone to get Armand a canvas. He just assumed he meant hiring a temporary delivery person not that there would be a standing staff. Especially one so coordinated they would be there to meet guests upon arrival.

If the man was caught off guard by Armand’s answer he did not show it.

“Welcome to the Estate de Lioncourt, I hope you enjoy your stay, Monsieur… Armand.”

Alright, that could work probably.

Even though Armand had experienced living with wealth before this was something new for him. As luxurious as life with his former Master was, they lived mostly secluded and alone. Sure, he would occasionally take Armand to extravagant events but when they were at home it was just them. The only exception being a cleaning service once a week, the staff constantly changing.

Being waited on hand and foot by a permanently hired staff like this was certainly unfamiliar to him. Lestat for his part did not seem to be bothered to ease him into this. He easily handed their things over and now asked one of the maids still there to make sure there would be fresh coffee ready in the kitchen.

“Certainly, Monsieur de Lioncourt,” responded the head butler instead, which the woman took as permission to leave and fulfill Lestat’s request. “Your mother is already in the kitchen enjoying her breakfast but I’m sure she would not be disturbed by you or your guest’s presence.”

Lestat simply nodded in response and then led Armand wordlessly away. Once again Lestat demonstrated some of the blind spots which turned Armand off of him when they first met. Now, he no longer felt like he could really scold Lestat for his ignorance when it was so deeply ingrained into him by living in this type of environment for the past few years.

It was only once they were out of the garage already walking up to the front doors that he realised everyone was speaking English when they would normally converse in French. He wondered if Lestat had told them to do so for his benefit beforehand or whether they automatically switched to English once they spotted Armand.

“Come, let me show you this place,” Lestat said once they entered the foyer, taking Armand’s hand to lead him along.

He could immediately tell that many of the renovations Lestat had mentioned were already finished, the rooms in no state of decay or disorder. Lestat also made sure that the original aesthetic was kept during the restorations, none of the rooms were even slightly modernised. Most furniture still fit the same style even if some of the pieces were made at a later point, only emulating the style of the actual vintage pieces to be found in the manor.

Lestat simply led him through room after room full of various antique artworks from ancient statues to Renaissance paintings.

“Some of these should be in a museum, not in a third reading room,” Armand remarked at one point.

“Most likely,” Lestat simply responded before leading him towards the fourth reading room. “We actually have a lost Delacroix hanging somewhere around here.”

It was very clear that despite the poverty-like experiences Lestat had in his childhood, materially speaking, he was really as wealthy as he’d described. Extremely so. And for the first time Armand felt genuinely insecure about their difference in status. Before it made him angry or resentful but all he felt now was an inherent lack. What had he to offer Lestat? What did he see in him to want him, when he was someone who had no need for anything?

They eventually reached the bedroom they were going to share, their luggage already deposited just like promised. It was a vast room very different from the one they shared at college, probably one of the most modern ones in the manor. The walls were made of light brown wood adorned with different posters. The bed in the middle of the room certainly conformed to the style of the rest of the manor with its wooden four poster design including drawn back blinds made of chiffon. The dark brown closet in one corner of the room seemed vintage as well.

The other furniture however was simple and clearly contemporary. A desk and a chair as well as several drawers and bookshelves. They complied with the warm colour tones but their style did stick out even if it did not necessarily clash. They were clearly here for functionality over mere aesthetics unlike the rest of the manor’s furniture. It was also clear that this must’ve been Lestat’s childhood bedroom.

“This is where we’re going to sleep,” he simply announced but Armand felt sick at a sudden realisation.

Was this the room where Lestat passed out in for hours all alone? The room he was in when the rest of his family was dying. No matter how little he cared for them this was still deeply disturbing to him.

“Your childhood room?” he asked just to clarify.

Lestat must’ve caught the look of concern on Armand’s face considering his immediate clarification.

“No, I moved rooms after I got back from the hospital. That room is sealed off. Most of the same furniture is in here however,” Lestat explained, which relaxed Armand a little bit.

Still Lestat must’ve caught some lingering unease in him so he went over and gave him a deep kiss that immediately relaxed Armand again, simply melting into the embrace. Lestat slowly separated their lips and then looked at Armand fondly.

“Come, let’s not think about this anymore. We can unpack later. Let’s go to the kitchen before the coffee gets cold.”

Lestat led him back past all the rooms he just showed him and into a different part on the other end of the manor, one completely new to him which made Armand realise that despite Lestat having shown him quite a lot of rooms already he had only seen part of the large estate so far.

“It might seem like a lot of staff but it’s only seven people and they live in a staff house behind the main one. It’s just customary that they are all present when someone arrives,” Lestat explained on the way to the kitchen, apparently having caught some of Armand's surprise. “You’ll rarely see them around unless we call on them.”

Despite the reassurance he was not sure if Lestat could truly sense his trepidations. If he really did he was not too blatant about it considering he sounded rather casual during his explanation.

“There was obviously no personnel when I was growing up,” he elaborated. “But once my mother recovered and returned home, I slowly implemented staff for her sake. Now they’re just a staple.”

Armand understood the logic. Lestat’s mother was still recovering at the time and he would’ve never been able to direct the renovations, take care of his mother, and complete menial tasks like cooking, cleaning, and gardening all by himself. No, he did not judge Lestat for hiring people to take care of the manor’s affairs whatsoever but it did not change the fact that Armand still needed some time to get acclimated to these new circumstances.

They entered the kitchen which looked a lot like an industrial one with multiple counters equipped with everything cooking required even if outside of the actual cooking utilities it was as old fashioned as the rest of the house. Two of the staff members present during their arrival were busy cleaning the counters and some leftover utensils. How they found time to be present during that while clearly having to cook breakfast eluded Armand.

The only unusually domestic thing present in the otherwise professional kitchen environment was a corner nook. It was on the far side of the room, a small carving in the wall, a few shallow benches arranged around a table surrounded by decorative windows. Someone was already sitting there reading a book not even looking up when they entered the room. This could only be Lestat’s mother, Armand gathered, despite her utter lack of attention paid towards them as they entered.

They first went over to the outermost counter, the one nearest to the door where a coffeepot was arranged on a platter next to two empty cups and two open porcelain containers holding cream and sugar. They poured their coffees according to their preferences before approaching the nook, now seeing that the table was decked with several breakfast options.

“Good morning mother,” Lestat greeted her while placing a kiss on her cheek before sitting down. Meanwhile, Armand sat opposite of them taking a look at the many breakfast options on the table, unsure if he should greet Lestat’s mother too in fear of disturbing her reading. Before he could decide, she already spoke up herself.

“Good morning, Lestat,” she responded without looking up at him, her accent not as distinctly French as Lestat’s, he couldn’t quite place it. “Mojo is sleeping in the main library but I’m sure the staff will let him out into the garden soon, he’ll be happy to see you again.”

“Good to know,” Lestat said and simply went on to grab food and started eating.

Armand was absolutely floored. This was supposedly the first time his mother was seeing Lestat again after so many months of him being gone and she acted like this was just a regular morning. Lestat's utter lack of a reaction only baffled him more. Lestat hated to be ignored by people who were basically strangers. How was he fine with his own mother not even looking at him?

“How is school going? Still meeting your expectations?” she asked after a moment.

“It’s splendid, my grades are of course impeccable as always. But as I told you, someone is giving me a run for first spot in some of my classes,” he said that last part while cheekily looking at Armand who only blushed in response feeling his cheeks growing warm.

“I’m glad to hear,” she actually looked up to give a small smile to Lestat before turning to Armand.

For the first time he could actually see her face but all he could initially focus on was the coldness her gaze seemed to carry. She was a stunning woman with delicate features, her blonde hair trimmed very short. He could only imagine how much she would resemble Lestat if it was longer.

“You are Armand, I’m assuming?” her voice was hard and as cold as her stare but not mean her tone neutral.

“Yes, it is nice to meet you Madame de Lioncourt,” he said with a polite nod.

“Call me Gabrielle,” she responded. “I heard a lot about you albeit not always positively. But it does seem my son loves you dearly even under somewhat difficult circumstances.”

“Yes, we had our ups and downs but I assure you I love Lestat very much and would do nothing to hurt him,” he said sincerely, the ‘anymore’ part of that sentence omitted. Her expression was dismayed and that was enough for Armand’s dislike for her to really manifest in him.

She went back to reading her book without responding to him and only occasionally talked to Lestat throughout the rest of the meal. Armand tried to listen to the conversation, despite Gabrielle’s low tone, but she had switched to speaking French now and he couldn’t understand a word. The entire time Lestat was completely cheery, responding to his mother mostly in French, while occasionally smiling at Armand contently, clearly missing the establishing tension between Armand and Gabrielle. The latter not sparing another glance towards Armand like she no longer registered him.

After a relatively long silence, Lestat and Armand both focused on finally eating some of the genuinely amazing food Gabrielle spoke up again.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it,” she said before addressing Lestat, but continuing in English. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

Then she left rather brazenly, still clutching her book and not sparing Armand another glance.

Armand looked at Lestat who only continued eating and drinking like nothing happened. Armand simply followed his lead.

Once they returned to their room a couple of hours later and started to unpack, Armand was almost afraid that Lestat would ask him his thoughts on meeting his mother. He could not imagine coming up with anything positive about her. But his worries were quickly proven to be unfounded. Instead of questioning him about any of these strange circumstances Lestat simply pulled him out of the room again with a quick, “Let me show you something.”

Lestat led him outside, this time towards the back of the house. From the lobby towards the back there was a straight hallway, lined with artworks just like the rest of the house. It ended in a large conservator, glass sliding doors providing a perfect view of the sprawling garden outside. Lestat slid open one of them, still holding onto Armand’s hand and quickly pulled him outside.

The area directly by the building was tiled, clearly a modern addition, a currently covered up pool towards the side. The tiles bordered on grassy ground marking the start of a sprawling garden.

The garden was made up of many different flower beds, bushes and even statues, all arranged in a pleasing manner, with enough empty grass paths to walk towards every corner of the large grounds. Even the wall was replaced by a tall hedge, which served a similar function, but fused with the general aesthetic of the grounds a lot better.

Lestat led him past all the intricate arrangements, not giving him a moment to observe them, simply leading him further into the garden until they reached the end of the garden grounds, greeted by the same hedge that seemed to stretch around the entirety of the large area behind the actual estate. It looked homogenous at first except for a small metal gate that was integrated into the hedge. Once they reached it Lestat let go of him and opened it, leading him through to a large grass plain.

The first thing he spotted in the otherwise homogenous landscape was the servant quarters off to the side of the hedge, a significantly smaller house than the manor but still big enough to accommodate a large family comfortably. He could see trees not too far to the side of the plain. Clearly the entire grounds belonging to the estate were integrated into the wooden areas. A perfectly carved out space kept perfectly neat within an otherwise unperfect, natural environment.

“Where are we going, Lestat?” he asked, not being able to see where they were headed due to the slight elevation of the ground before them. They were clearly going up a hill nevertheless the destination was still unclear.

“You’ll see,” was all Lestat responded and then he once again offered his hand to Armand who eagerly took it.

The moment he had a firm grasp on his hand Lestat started to run. Armand stumbled a bit at the sudden increase in speed but then simply ran after him making sure not to let go of his hand. He started to laugh running up the plain hill thick forest surrounding them and all he could see was Lestat in front of him running, holding his hand, and once in a while turning his head back to smile at Armand before fixing his gaze in front of him again like he could already see what he was about to show him.

And all Armand cared about was this beautiful man leading him along who got excited at the mere thought of showing something revelatory to Armand. That loved Armand so much and let him know it from the fantastic to the mundane. Every action Lestat took felt like another confession of love and admiration. Like he lived on loving. And he loved Armand, yes he very clearly did.

They stopped suddenly. Armand once again almost tripped, not expecting it. It felt like he was ready to run with Lestat forever. When he finally tore his gaze from an excited Lestat to look at what he was looking at Armand was flashed by the vision in front of him.

There was the most beautiful landscape he had ever seen. The hill stretched down in dips and elations, sprawled with many patches of dense woods. It was clear the grounds the manor was on were already elevated, the run up the hill only bringing them slightly higher.

The hill stretched all the way down towards large fields, cut off from one another by lines of trees and larger forests.

Though in the middle of the entire scene, surrounded by those fields and forests laid a small village. This far away he could barely make out the individual buildings, but it was clearly a very sparse one, essentially integrated into the nature around it instead of an interruption to it, patches of grass and trees found between the infrastructures.

The entire scene before him was one of the most beautiful and idyllic views he ever experienced himself. It was paralleled only by the White Cliffs of Dover that he saw on a school trip once and the canals of Venice at night when the streetlights reflected off the surface of the water.

“This is absolutely stunning Lestat. How far is the village?”

“From here directly down the hill, like thirty minutes, the path is kind of winding. But I actually showed it to you because I thought you might want to paint it. You said you wanted to paint a landscape,” he said while stretching his arm out over the view. “Here’s a landscape.”

Armand turned and kissed him. Hard and long overlooking one of the most beautiful views.

“You ridiculously thoughtful man,” he whispered against Lestat’s lips. “You infuriatingly considerate man. You don’t simply make my life better; you make it much more worthwhile.”

Lestat’s face was moving against his own in little bursts and only after a moment did he realise Lestat was crying silent tears. He immediately moved back but did not stop touching Lestat. He immediately put his hands on his face and used his thumbs to wipe his tears away.

“Don’t weep like that. You’ll devastate me, love,” was all Armand could respond. “You showed me the most wonderful thing, thank you for that.”

“So, you want to paint it?” he asked, tears still staining his cheeks.

“I’ll paint it for you,” he said. “As a gift to you at the end of our trip when we go back to college, you’re not allowed to see it before then.”

Lestat simply agreed, before burying his face in Armand’s shoulder. Armand held him hard against himself letting Lestat slowly compose himself again, before they reverted back to the actual estate.

Lestat insisted on showing him the garden more thoroughly considering they only rushed through it so far. It was a large plot, probably twice the size of the already sprawling manor, containing many little sitting areas, two larger pavilions, and even a small maze.

It reminded him of the large estates in Britain belonging to some of his former Master’s wealthier friends, most of whom were royalty to some degree. It made sense that Lestat had similar ancestry even if they did not have opportunity to flourish as much in France after the revolution the way they still did back in his homeland.

While on their way to find a place where they could sit down for lunch Lestat was suddenly tackled by a big mass of fur, both falling straight to the ground. Armand immediately got closer just to realise the thing was simply a large German Shepherd that was currently slobbering all over Lestat’s face.

“Mojo! Tu m'as manqué, mon pote,” Lestat said while hugging the large dog before standing up. “Hey Mojo, this is my good friend, Armand. Armand, this is my dog Mojo.”

He did not know what confused him more, being introduced to a dog like it was a human or that Lestat friendzoned him to his own dog.

“Hey Mojo,” was all he said, while hesitantly petting the dog’s head which was seemingly enough to win him over immediately, he wagged his tail and started licking Armand’s hand.

Lestat was unbridledly giddy and turned his attention fully on the dog for a little while and Armand observed them in quiet joy, rarely having seen his boyfriend this almost childishly delighted.

Only after a moment did he realise Mojo was actually followed by two even bigger dogs who both simply stood a little back now, their tired eyes conveying neither happiness nor sadness; these were clearly the Mastiff’s that Lestat’s mother had mentioned. They were a lot less enthusiastic than Mojo, simply content to trot after him clearly long past their prime years.

Once Lestat was ready to continue his tour and the search for the best spot for their lunch break it seemed all three of the dogs were ready to simply trail behind them for the rest of the walk.

“How did your family retain the estate?” he asked while they were finally sitting down just past noon, their lunch quickly served to them, Armand not even aware how Lestat notified the staff of their location. They were in one of the two pavilions, this one a dark brown, the open spaces between the slates holding up the roof draped in dark maroon fabric, keeping out a lot of the bright light, making the space feel intimate. They ate the served lunch at the table in the middle of the round space. Mojo was lying in the corner next to the entrance, while the other dogs rested outside.

“We were only country lords, you saw how small the village is, it was probably only a few individual houses back then. I don’t think many people remembered my family was even here. They might’ve lost their standing in polite society but no one was present to cut their particular heads off. It did however erode their ability to maintain their monetary wealth, having to completely shut themselves off for several decades,” he simply explained before yawning loudly.

“How large is the actual area you’re owning? It looks massive.”

Armand took another bite of the truly heavenly food not used to this caliber of fine eating after living off cafeteria lunch and instant ramen for the past few months. Not like the food available to him directly before that was much better. Still he could recall the quality of genuinely good food he once was used to and both breakfast and lunch served here exceeded even those.

“Well, nowadays the manor grounds themselves, the directly surrounding woods, and hill area. It used to stretch down to the village, so we basically had the entire hill, with the addition of the surrounding fields. My father had to sell the fields and I sold some of the forest area at the bottom of the hill. Most of the useful land you saw basically does not belong to us anymore, but we still have the beautiful stuff,” he simply said, while taking hold of Armand’s hand and playing with his fingers and rings in a seductive way.

“Mhh, my wealthy landowner boyfriend only cares about the beauty of it all, does he now?” Armand teased.

The energy between them grew more lustful, Armand leaning into Lestat’s space. 

“In every instance,” Lestat whispered.

They were about to potentially christen the pavilion with a less savoury act, before Lestat let out another long yawn. Armand only chuckled and leaned back again the moment evaporating into relaxed cohabitation again. Lestat simply closed his eyes and leaned back into his chair, trying to fight off the creeping fatigue.

They finished their lunch keeping the conversation light and frivolous. At some point Lestat simply recounted an anecdote about the renovation of the manor and why he opted to plant carnation on one of the empty plots in the garden instead of roses. Armand was just happy to listen to Lestat talk no matter the topic.

Throughout the rest of the day Lestat was profoundly sleepy, the long night drive had finally caught up to him. He however vowed to stay up until the evening to help adjust to the new time zone a lot quicker. But that also meant they did not do anything exciting for the rest of their day and instead spent it in their currently shared room in the manor in a quiet domain together. They first watched a movie, lying in each other's arms barely paying attention to it before Armand read a book, occasionally having to interrupt himself to wake a half asleep Lestat.

Once evening arrived they had a quiet supper together which was brought to their room. An exception as Lestat had urged before preaching that most future dinners would be held in the dining room, generally being treated as a much more formal affair than breakfast and lunch.

Then Lestat finally let himself fall asleep only an hour after they were done eating and a lot sooner than he ever did at college. 

Armand, still fairly awake, just held him for a little while, observing Lestat sleeping so peacefully. The fact that all of this was merely a fantasy only two months ago seemed so distant now.

After a while he slowly disentangled himself out of the embrace and finally took the opportunity of showering undisturbed in a private shower for once after what was years of shared communal bathrooms.

Despite having unpacked and stored his own grooming products in the bathroom already, Armand decided to use Lestat’s. They were not the ones he used at college, those were clearly bought while he was in the US but instead the ones that he had left here in this bathroom. There was just a certain connection he wanted to feel to Lestat in every way including who he was before he ever met Armand. He wanted to absorb his history no matter how difficult and uncomfortable it was. It made Lestat the man he was, made him the man that Armand loved and therefore he wanted to cherish it, to indulge in it all. For now he had to settle on using his old shampoo and bodywash.

When he was finished washing and drying himself he put on some perfunctory sleep clothes, an old shirt and joggers, before wandering quietly out of the dark bedroom to not disturb a sleeping Lestat.

He went back to find one of the reading rooms Lestat had led him through during his tour, the one he remembered had an immaculate recreation of ‘The Tempest’ by Giorgione hanging in it. Most of the artworks in the manor were expectedly French but he recognised that one from an art gallery in Venice. It was one of the most elusive paintings there and he wondered how a copy of it made its way into this estate, otherwise so careful in keeping the aesthetic distinct to the ancien régime.

When he reached the room and examined some of the other artwork, it was clear the entirety of the library’s decorations were inspired by Italian painters rather than French ones. He only took a perfunctory look at some of the books on the shelves and realised that they all seemed to be in Italian too. While on the surface bearing the same ancient veneer the study was distinctly Italian in style, a mix of different eras but no trace of anything uniquely French to its design.

He ended up looking at the rather simple painting for some time. Its calm colours beautifully recreated the composition basically identical to the original. But anyone who had seen the original would immediately recognise the inferior brush work on this one, especially someone like Armand who was deeply familiar with the practice.

Suddenly a cold voice rang out, almost giving Armand a heart attack at the sudden surprise of another presence in the room. He whipped his head over to the source. Gabrielle sat in one of the elaborate armchairs in the corner of the room.

“It’s curious you are taken by that painting in particular,” was all she said clearly not intending on surprising him, but also not apologetic that she did.

She must’ve entered the room and sat down in the corner after Armand’s initial exploration. Then he was clearly too focused on looking between the artworks and the Italian books to notice her presence. Armand decided to walk over to her and sit in the chair opposite of hers, a small table between them with an unused chessboard on it.

“Why is that?” he simply asked.

She looked at him rather openly for the first time, no judgement in her gaze. It struck him that her eyes were the exact same colour as Lestat’s.

“It is my son’s favourite. All the tales of the great French past and all the accomplishments of this country told to him by his father falling completely to the wayside at the sight of a simple Italian painting,” she smiled serenely, like she was remembering something.

“To that point, why have this room at all? It seems a little out of place,” Armand asked genuinely curious. “If the goal was to preserve the history of the estate, why add something foreign at all?”

“It was a gift to me from my late husband. I was born and raised in Italy. He renovated this room for me when we got married to keep my books and trinkets in and give me a quiet place to read. I always had the theory he pre-emptively tried to contain any potential influences by me on the house to one room with the move,” she said, although she did not sound resentful of that merely stated it as a simple musing.

Armand had doubts she still had the potential for real resentment. But he was slightly delighted by this revelation for a completely unrelated reason.

“Lestat non mi ha mai detto che,” he spoke to her in Italian.

“E non mi ha mai parlato delle tue  capacità. Davvero impressionante,” she responded in kind, her accent distinctly native.

“He doesn’t know,” Armand confessed, switching back to English. “My former guardian was from Italy as well; he only spoke Italian to me until I was familiar enough with the language to understand him and respond in kind. Those were some difficult few months. He did not enjoy disobedience even if it was due to my lack of understanding his literal words but it did help me pick up the language pretty quickly,” he recounted it like a casual anecdote but the casual cruelty of it hit him after vocalising it.

“How so?” she asked, seeming genuinely interested to know.

Armand paused for a moment, not sure how to answer the question before he simply decided to be honest.

“He punished me every time I disregarded an order. Hit me with a switch mostly. Made me count the strikes in Italian. Once I didn’t know the following number anymore he told me what it was then began the strikes again until he reached the number he just taught me. God forbid I did not remember it,” he recounted the events rather apathetically. This was the one action he always judged the master for, recognised it as the cruel punishment it was but he simply took it, accepted it, loved him regardless.

“What was Lestat’s judgement of this?”

“He doesn’t know about it,” Armand responded, slightly vexed. “I don’t want him to know.”

What would Lestat think of him if he knew the extent of the cruelty that lingered in Armand’s past? Could he relate to it or would he judge him for his passivity, for simply accepting physical violence as a just punishment? Lestat clearly knew violence but he had never accepted it. He always condemned it, especially when it was committed against him. Would he sense weakness, even perversion within Armand for simply accepting punishment that Lestat so vehemently fought against? Violence that made him hate the people who committed it, unlike Armand who went on loving the very man who harmed him like this?

Gladly, Gabrielle’s response tore him out of any ruminations on what he just told.

“It seems there are a few things my son doesn’t quite know about you,” was all she said to that and for the first time she seemed to purposefully grow cold towards him to Armand’s surprise.

How dare she question him like that? He just revealed such a vulnerable thing about himself and all she had to offer to that was judgement and condemnation. Like him not telling Lestat every single detail of his childhood was more condemnable than a mother refusing to show affection to her son. It also showed that she was clearly unaware of some of the intimate details he told Lestat that he did not relay to his mother, probably out of respect for Armand.

“He knows more than anyone else,” Armand stated defiantly.

“And how much does anyone else know,” she caught him with that comment.

Most others did in fact know nothing. He wanted most around him to know nothing at least about his past. That Lestat even got to know anything was a fluke something Armand never expected but was ultimately glad for. Because it was the beginning of their relationship which brought them together.

“I love Lestat,” he pleaded almost desperately, it was all he had in response to her implications.

“Many people love quite a lot. It has never determined that the outcome will be satisfactory. Some would argue love alone can only bring doom. Most would agree it will if it is coupled with deceit.”

Armand rolled her words over in his mind and they brought both shame and revulsion. Who was she to talk like she could see through Armand like that after only knowing him for less than a day having barely spoken to him so far. How would she know his and Lestat’s true relationship?

“He knows everything he needs to know. And more importantly, I pay attention to him. I listen to him; I care about him. Lestat is the centre of my universe and I don’t think you could say the same. He’s your son and only surviving family member and it seems I still love him more than you ever did.”

She gave a short burst of laughter in response. Armand seethed looking down at his balled up fists under the table slightly flexing them to soothe himself. He felt absolutely volatile but tried to push these emotions down keeping his expression neutral.

“Oh, you’re still so very juvenile and so is your conception of love,” she finally said.

He waited for her to elaborate but once he looked up at her again she was back to reading her book apparently having spoken her piece. He couldn’t deny it, her assertions made him utterly miserable no matter how true some of them might be. Maybe because of how true they might be.

“I think I’ll retire to bed now, I’ve suddenly grown rather tired,” was all he responded before he briskly walked out.

He wasn’t certain, his thoughts too focused on everything they discussed before but he thought he heard her say something while he was leaving the room. And if these words were true his undefined anger might’ve been justified.

“Don’t feel too much shame. The way you talk to me he clearly hasn’t told you everything either.”

He made his way back to the shared bedroom with Lestat. He wanted to be mad at him for potentially hiding something obvious from him but he did not want to feel even more shame for being a hypocrite as well as a liar. Well, more an obscurer. An omitter maybe. He almost turned into one of the other rooms on his way with the hope it could be an empty bedroom where he could sleep instead. 

Still, it seemed that this pull towards Lestat was stronger than his shame over the confrontation he had with his mother. He just wanted to hold his sleeping form again. Well for the most part. Also hurt him a little, maybe discreetly pinch his arm without his knowledge.

He entered their room as carefully as possible but Lestat’s bedside lamp was already on Lestat sitting upright in the bed scrolling on his phone. His chest was bare, only his legs covered by a blanket. He suddenly looked up at Armand sneaking in, instantly putting his phone aside. His gaze carried nothing but undisguised lust.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologised quickly despite being aware that Lestat was awake. The false courtesy only made the tension between them grow.

“You didn’t,” Lestat said teasingly. “Come here.”

Armand went over and crawled into the bed next to Lestat who flipped onto his back and pulled Armand over himself. He kissed him quite suddenly and passionately as a clear signal for what he wanted to do next.

It made sense too; they were finally both rested in the most private location they’ve ever found themselves in. It was one of the major factors why they fibered towards this getaway, finally some peace and quiet to fully indulge in each other. His assessment was proven right rather quickly.

“Fuck me,” Lestat urged in a full voice rather than a whispered request.

Well, who was Armand to deny him even in his still upset state?

Unsurprisingly, he found everything needed already stored away in Lestat’s nightstand and went to work on preparing Lestat.

He quickly tore off Lestat’s pants to work his fingers inside him. Lestat was fully naked now not having worn anything but the pants Armand disposed of while the other went on removing his own clothes, an easy endeavour even while inserting more fingers into Lestat.

Lestat simply moaned at his preparations like he always did, urging for more and more. 

It made Armand for the first time in the many days and weeks they were doing this wonder how it would feel if he was on the receiving end. How it would feel if he let Lestat do this to him, have him shiver and moan like Lestat currently was. The harder he rubbed the pads of his fingers against Lestat’s prostate the louder the other man’s moans grew and the more he imagined this being done to him. 

Lestat bucked his hips particularly hard at one of Armand’s thrusts and he knew the other man was more than ready for him. He put a condom on while Lestat laid prone before him, mewling at the loss of contact between them, pleading eyes looking up at him, tears already gathering in their corners.

It wasn’t long before Armand’s body paralleled Lestat’s and he lowered himself down aiming his cock towards Lestat’s hole. He circled it with his tip a few times then slowly entered, relishing in the sensation like he always did. He bottomed out quickly and before he knew it, he was moving in and out of Lestat at an increasing pace and all previous thoughts shattered at once. 

Lestat was arching his back, clawing at the bedding and Armand’s back whimpering and continuously asking for ‘more’ and ‘harder’. Lestat’s legs were encircling his hips, locking together behind his back. Their faces were close to each other panting and moaning interrupted by short but deep kisses. Armand suddenly drew his head back then bit into Lestat’s shoulder overcome by his stored up emotions. Lestat cried out in delight but otherwise just tightened his hold on the other.

Armand was overcome by a sudden urge to punish him even if it wasn’t quite clear what for. Most of the anger inside him was actually aimed at himself he realised even at this moment, still some resentment for Lestat was almost always present when negative emotions reared their heads in his mind.

He disentangled himself from Lestat to the other's surprise, even temporarily pulling out. Then he suddenly flipped him over using one hand to press Lestat’s upper back into the bedding, while holding his cock steady with the other to enter Lestat at once roughly sinking into him again.

He took one side of his hip in a steady hold while still pressing him down, dominating Lestat with his grip and fast thrusts in a way he had never really done before. All their previous encounters aimed for as much collaboration and physical closeness as possible but this felt more distant and certainly more selfish. All Lestat did in response was further arch his back while leaning into Armand’s ministrations.

“Fuck,” Lestat exclaimed, followed by a breathless little laugh. He had freed his face a little, despite Armand’s hold on him. “You’re brutal.”

“You can take it, slut,” never before had he been this callous with Lestat though it was clearly welcomed considering Lestat leaned into everything Armand did with absolute enthusiasm.

Still, part of him would’ve regretted it immediately, if it wasn’t for Lestat responding with his loudest moan yet. He became even more enthused and responsive than he ever did before partly due to the privacy they were finally afforded freely moaning and bucking his hips.

“Yeah? Make me take it then,” he responded after a moment, slightly depleted but still mocking and that certainly wouldn’t do.

Armand redoubled his efforts, taking even tighter hold of the other, snapping his hips and holding Lestat’s steady, while aiming directly for Lestat’s prostate. He almost hissed with the effort he was exerting until Lestat was reduced to nothing but mewls and whines.

He had half a mind to actually take hold of Lestat’s cock to finish him when the other let out a long groan coming without Armand’s touch.

Rather than slowing down to let Lestat recover he held his pace, delighted by Lestat’s little whines of overstimulation until he came into the condom wishing, not for the first time, he could come directly into Lestat. Lay an actual visible claim on the other. The fantasy of it carrying him through his release.

Once the last waves of his orgasm left him he loosened his hold on Lestat who collapsed into the sheets with a final moan. Armand continued to kneel above him and stared at his relaxed form for a bit, all tension having left him, made apparent by his complete physical ease. Armand simply disengaged after a while and went into the bathroom to get rid of the prophylactic in a daze.

Shame was crashing into him hard and fast while he washed his hands and cleaned up a bit. Never before had he fucked Lestat like that without any care for the others pleasure. Even the first time, overcome with passion, he was still motivated by Lestat’s enjoyment as much as his own.

He dreaded coming back to Lestat expecting potential backlash from the other man now that it was over and Lestat too had some time to think on it. Had time to develop outrage over the disrespect Armand displayed towards him. Calling him a slut? He was pretty mad the last time he insulted him with much milder terms. He braced himself for the worst.

Instead of all hell breaking loose once he returned to the bedroom he found a still thoroughly relaxed Lestat simply lounging back on the bed now smiling at Armand a little amused.

“So, what was that all about?” he asked, his words easing Armand. “Not that I didn’t enjoy it, I clearly did, but it seemed a little out of character coming from you, no offense. You’re just very… composed most of the time.”

“I was a little pissed it had nothing to do with you… mostly,” he responded while getting back into bed.

“Do I want to know?” it was astonishing how much Lestat simply trusted his word nowadays.

Once Armand settled in Lestat immediately threw his arm across Armand’s torso and laid his head on his chest snuggling against him. The utter comfort he displayed towards Armand eased a lot of his anxieties in an instance.

“Not really,” he said, taking hold of Lestat, and after a moment clarified. “I really did not go too far? Even the name-calling?”

“Not at all, I enjoyed it immensely. You losing control for once… it was hot. Names like that just amuse me most of the time.”

“What about the time I called you spoi—”

“Let’s not speak of that now, that's a different insult and the outrage was at the implication you know that.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” he looked down at Lestat who was still flushed, his face unreservedly open. Armand brushed a stray strand of blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead away before stroking his thumb across Lestat’s warmed cheek.

“You look good all fucked out,” Lestat bit his lip before smiling at the statement.

“Put that type of effort in more often and you’ll get to see it again,” always having to put forward a challenge, his Lestat.

Armand planted a kiss on his head before lying back hugging the other man closer to him. They fell asleep under the shared blanket in mutual satisfaction. All of Armand’s resentment melted away in the face of their devotion to one another.

He woke up before Lestat the next morning and simply marvelled at the other's sleeping form. He was about to spend the next three weeks with him here and he couldn’t wait to experience it all. Being here with Lestat in this bed just felt right.

And suddenly he remembered that first dream he had at college. Lying in a bed completely at ease thinking Lestat was next to him when it was actually Marius.

He tried to ignore the flashing thoughts over the weeks since that dream. He tried to push them down, clinging to what Marius had said but it was harder and harder to ignore these new words he now presumed were true.

“This feels right and what I had with the Mas– what I had with Marius no longer does.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. Like admitting that something that he once knew so very insistently was no longer correct. Was probably never correct.

He always perceived slights and unfair treatment and even wrongdoing by Marius towards him but he just thought that came with any intimate connection especially their kind. But now all these things he did to him seemed like cruelty. Because Lestat would never do these things.

He’d never hurt him or punish him like that. He fought him and he was vitriolic but it bore repercussions, Armand was allowed to fight against him like he never was allowed to fight Marius. Not just that he was allowed to dominate Lestat, take complete charge. He didn’t even realise it at the time but he hadn’t even conceptualised doing that before last night. Before Lestat.

Armand had to admit, at least to himself, that the sacredness of his previous relationship was gone and he did not miss it.

He looked back again at Lestat sleeping so soundly, utterly serene. Rather than ruminate on thoughts that he finally concluded on, he simply laid back down on Lestat’s chest, slumbering with him for a little while longer.

Chapter Text

The following week and a half went by exactly how the both of them had hoped for when they first planned this vacation. They were undisturbed and therefore rather relaxed for the majority of the time. Every moment together was pure bliss just like the first day, although a little more eventful after they’d adjusted to the new timezone. Still, for the most part they indulged in each other no matter the way they passed the time, any outside influence falling to the wayside.

The closer their proximity and the bigger their isolation from others the more intimate they grew. They just fit together as long as they could simply be together while shutting out the world around them. The little tension still left between them only served to fire up debates between them that more often than not ended in positive rather than negative outcomes. The negative ones were minimal enough to be tolerated and positive ones genuinely exhilarating. Still tension was permanently present.

As declared by Lestat they had dinner together with Gabrielle in the dining room almost every evening and always dressed splendidly. Lestat had actually ordered a couple of suits for Armand for these occasions without having informed him about it, which led to the first of their several quarrels during their stay in the ancestral home.

He simply handed one of the suits to Armand once evening approached the day after they arrived and while he reluctantly wore it without much question or protest at the time he seethed about it the entire rest of the evening. The fact that it was the most well tailored suit he had ever worn did not help the matter. Right after dinner, lifting his spirits just a little through the good food and high quality wine and once they were back in their shared room he provoked a fight over it.

He was mostly annoyed because Lestat had gone over his head not even for the first time, just the most egregious one. Meanwhile Lestat did not understand why it was that important to him in the first place.

Armand went on and on about how little Lestat considered even asking for his opinion before making decisions for him, however miniscule they were. Meanwhile Lestat argued that he was simply taking care of these things. That he looked out for him like a good partner should. Armand retorted that Lestat did not need to take on this decision making role, especially all on his own. That he was happy to assist, that they should be making these decisions together before Lestat let slip the unreliability of these inputs considering Armand’s volatile history of conflict resolution. That remark simply enraged him further no matter how true it might’ve rung.

They went back and forth for a good part of an hour before they ended up in bed together, Armand taking out his frustrations on Lestat in a more pleasant way and the other taking it gleefully. In the moment it felt like victory but he continued wearing the suits the following evenings without further objections.

Although he couldn't protest too much he was grateful to Lestat for following these arbitrary rules for him, considering he would’ve never taken them seriously no matter the formality of the circumstances they found themselves in. But he also couldn’t deny that a lingering bitterness over his unearned compliance remained.

On top of these minor conflicts between Armand and Lestat, the relationship between Armand and Gabrielle certainly remained deeply unfavourable but polite and Lestat did not seem to either know or possibly care about his companions' mutual hostility. He continued speaking with both of them cordially, Armand a lot more than Gabrielle; switching between English and French with a head turn.

Thankfully the dining table was large enough to keep them far apart. Gabrielle on one end, always reading a book, while Armand and Lestat sat on the other end conversing about this and that together in intimate exchanges. Sometimes they fell so deeply into conversation they forgot their environment entirely until the next course was served or Gabrielle interjected to talk to Lestat in French. Every interruption filled Armand with quiet rage which was pushed aside as quickly as Lestat’s attention was back on him again.

Armand also started his painting on that second day, a stand already stationed on top of the hill behind the mansion to deploy his canvas on. Lestat, of course, was under strict instruction to stay away whenever Armand worked up there. Although Mojo occasionally took to joining him during his painting intermissions, most of the time simply resting while leaning against his legs or slumbering in front of the canvas.

Armand grew rather fond of the dog almost like he was his own. He never lived with a dog or any pet before so this was entirely new territory in a way. All the families he stayed with had no dogs and while he often begged Marius for some sort of pet the other always refused. Armand secretly suspected that he was scared of dividing some of Armand’s love away from himself. This was a dangerous thought, but at the time it was also a placating one.

At first his positive feeling towards the dog just felt like an extension of loving Lestat through also loving the things he loved. But no, the more time he spent with Mojo the more he cared for him even outside of his feelings for Lestat. He quickly realised the dog had his own quirks like the way he walked in a circle before lying down or how he scratched behind his ears with his hind paws. He became a genuine companion on these painting trips; a cherished presence.

Still, the majority of the time Lestat and Armand simply spent alone together, mostly lounging around the mansion and garden, while a member of the staff was always just a shout away from bringing them whatever they might need before quickly vanishing again after fulfilling the task. Serving a pot of tea while they sat in one of the pavilions in the afternoon. Bringing a snack unprompted while they were playing a few rounds of chess in the main study at some random time. Even fetching them a special cheese plate only sold at a local farmhouse a couple of villages away just because Lestat insisted it was the best cheese he has ever had and Armand simply had to try it while he was there.

It still unsettled Armand a bit though he couldn’t say that he hated it. He was used to more subtle service; discreet, quick, and simple. Avoidant of risking suspicion of any kind. Being served in this way so suddenly was unexpected but he could not deny how much he did appreciate the convenience of a plate of fruit being placed before him right when he started to feel a little peaky.

And apart from those sporadic occasions Lestat was right. He never saw any staff around the manor despite his extensive exploration of it whenever he was not spending his time with Lestat or painting up on the hill. Lestat made sure to carve out daily time to spend with his mother and while he often invited Armand along, he always declined and instead used these times to wander around.

He essentially made it his mission to visit every room in the manor once, even if not to fully examine all of them in detail. A quick once over would be enough.

Though he had preemptively decided to exclude one notable room from all of that for obvious reasons. He actually came across the door once, at least he was fairly certain it must’ve been it. He was on the second floor, opening door after door just to be met with another generic and clean but rather lifeless bedroom meaning every room on this floor and wing of the house was originally meant as guestrooms.

He was on autopilot checking out the rooms until he was surprised by the lack of a handle on what should’ve been the following door almost at the end of the hallway, only a couple of doors left untouched behind it. It was boarded up, parallel wooden slates covering an area where a door should be. Armand stared at it for a moment before moving on to the next room, this one also a simple guest room in an immaculately clean state despite clearly having been unoccupied for years. While the room itself seemed unimportant, like the previous ones had, it gave Armand one clear revelation considering the inaccessible room he just passed.

Lestat felt like he needed to be in control of the estate in every way possible. Needing to be assured it was taken care of to the utmost extent. That there was nothing out of his control within the building, the one room barricaded made irrelevant. And somehow Armand understood this urge instantly, understood why the guestrooms were kept immacutely maintained while the childhood bedroom was shut out completely. He simply carried on his exploration unbothered by this revelation.

Like Lestat had promised, one night they ended up going to the pub in the village that he had told Armand about simply to have a few drinks with strangers. Armand insisted they walk there using the trail down the mountain rather than drive, which Lestat indulgently agreed to. The hike ended up rather simple; it was mostly downhill and they were barely exhausted when they arrived in the village. Once there they headed towards the pub in high spirits after the long walk, truly more a journey than a trudge.

Settling in a corner of the bar, Lestat immediately charmed a couple of girls only slightly younger than them with tall tales of their American college adventures. Armand just laughed at his antics and affirmed his statements without further ado, only slightly disturbed by his suspicion that Lestat potentially wanted to bring these girls home with them. Still, he indulged in the light conversation between them, Lestat ordering drink after drink for all of them then dutifully paying for every round. Both girls, to Armand’s slight dismay, served as genuine great company with their own stories and jokes to bring to the table being truly entertaining in their own right.

Still once the evening ended both pairs still desired to part ways from the others while exchanging kisses that were only slightly too long and intimate.

Christmas, like any other day, came and went without them paying any attention to it. Lestat never knew it and Armand did not care for it. The days immediately following they spent in almost complete isolation, even escaping most of the scheduled dinners considering these were the few days the staff wasn’t working, being relieved of their duties between Christmas Eve and New Years Day. Therefore there was nothing left to explore but each other and their coexistence even more undisturbed than before.

From reading their respective books while residing in the same room together to engage in some more explorative sex acts. One moment Armand read Sartre the next he was binding Lestat’s hands to the slate of the bed. Either one action only established how freeing it was for them to separate from the environment they had met in, its freedom a mirage considering how it paled in contrast to their current arrangements.

They rang the New Year in with a bottle of champagne and the most passionate of kisses, a promise to a full year together, only the first of many to come. A couple of days later, at the beginning of the last week of their vacation together and just like Lestat had suggested, they went hunting.

Armand who at first responded to the suggestion rather negatively still agreed spontaneously while they were already residing in France. His need to learn more about Lestat and his life before they knew each other only grew the more time he spent in this place, the more he explored it; clearly reflecting on Lestat. Armand felt like the more aspects of who Lestat was that he could experience the better. And hunting was obviously one of them, so he readily agreed to go once he felt like there was nothing more to extrapolate from the now familiar environment that was the mansion. Lestat was delighted, which was merely another benefit for him. He’d never tire of making Lestat happy.

They packed a tent and some essential tools and groceries for the trip which were dutifully collected and loaded into the rental car by the staff. Right before leaving Lestat led Armand to the main study room to collect the hunting rifle, only entrusting himself with handling it. And honestly so did Armand.

The entire study was decorated with heavy, bunching fabrics for curtains and gaudy chintz placed on any flat surface making the entire room seem stuffy and dark with heavy and overloaded bookshelves situated on the edges of multiple intricately woven rugs. Armand himself was propped up against a heavy oak desk standing on its own rug; an obvious antique like most of the furniture in the room and the rest of the house. He was watching Lestat take a rifle out of a heavily secured metal closet designed to hold these very guns; one of the only modern pieces of furniture in the room, before slowly moving towards his boyfriend while holding the object. Armand was slightly spooked by the weapon and looked at it a bit askew. Lestat obviously noticed.

“What is it? Have you never seen a gun before?”
“In person? Only behind glass cabinets in museums and I’m pretty sure most of them did not work,” he answered, standing upright and moving further towards the other until he lightly touched the rifle with his fingertips before quickly retreating them like the object was burning hot despite its solidly cold exterior.

“Well, those were probably quite old and special. This is a regular hunting rifle but don’t worry, I know how to use it,” Lestat said with an honest to god wink.

Armand rolled his eyes as he usually did at Lestat’s antics but it did make a bit of heat rise in him. Made him want to test the other to prove the intended double-entendre.

Lestat secured the rifle in a safety case deposited on the desk Armand was just leaning against before handing it over to the staff waiting by the door of the room so they could deposit it in the car they would use to drive to the nearest wooden area that allowed hunting.

On the way out they quickly went into the Italian library to bid farewell to Gabrielle. She sat in her usual reading corner studying another book. Armand never saw her read the same book at different times.

“Well, we’re off mother, see you again in a couple of days,” he said while placing a kiss on her cheek.

“Bring home a deer,” was all she responded, not even glancing at Lestat.

“Goodbye, Gabrielle,” Armand said from the doorframe, not having ventured into the room since that first day. She simply glanced his way in quiet acknowledgment though her look didn’t seem hostile in any way. Maybe he still had a chance to win her over one of these days. Maybe.

They left through the front doors, the car already ready parked in the middle of the driveway rather than the garage. Lestat checked on the cased rifle in the trunk with the rest of their supplies just making sure everything was in order, before he joined Armand in the car where he was already sitting in the passenger seat by the time Lestat had secured everything properly.

The drive towards the hunting area itself was rather short. Armand looked out the window admiring the beauty of the French countryside, not that different from the English one that was so dear to him.

America had been unsurprisingly different from his home in so many different ways. The smells, the sights, the way the sun rose and fell, all was so distinct from what he knew. Just walking down a silent street invoked no memories of his past even though it was one of the most ordinary actions he could imagine. France however felt like an echo of his past. Familiar to the point that it could be mistaken for the same thing.

But then again maybe it was simply a difference between a college town and the countryside. Who could say that there wasn’t some part of England to be found in rural Missouri?

Wooden area after wooden area passed before his eyes, Lestat not even checking if they were adequate for their current needs. Most of the woods on the property were too small to properly hunt in. Thankfully one of the sold off plots of land was essentially a large dense wood perfect for this type of activity and Lestat had retained the right to still hunt in it in the deal.

He eventually parked the car on the edge of that forest on the side of the desolated street that winded through it. In fact not a single car had passed them during the entirety of their drive, they were truly cut off from the outside world here.

They got most of their essential stuff from the trunk. The tent, food and drink, and their backpacks before venturing into the centre of the forest.

“We’re obviously not going to shoot a deer,” Lestat started to explain during their hike towards what he had explained was his usual camping spot. “But maybe we get a couple of hares at least if we are lucky. Mostly, we’re doing this so I can share a tent with you after showing off my various survival and hunting skills.”

“You’re truly ridiculous,” Armand responded with an eyeroll obviously aware of what Lestat was once again hinting at.

Despite their quickly developing sexual exploration the one thing they haven’t done yet was switching positions. Armand did provide variety, of course except when it came to who was on the receiving end, at least so far, and Lestat started to slowly grow weary with it. Armand simply shook his head and continued to follow Lestat across the uneven forest ground.

The earth they walked on was hardened by the cold of the night with frost still clinging to the bushes and trees surrounding them. Their breaths came out in cloudy puffs in the cold morning air. While the next few days were forecasted to be sunny meaning it would be warmer than usual during the day, the low temperatures from the night before were still present at this early hour. Maybe Lestat was right about the benefit of sharing a tent after all they simply would have to cuddle up.

They reached a small meadow after their short trip from the road and through the woods. The light was falling between the high above tree branches caused by the rising sun, colouring the plain in a warm orange and pink glow. The ground and many of the surrounding trees were covered in a thick layer of moss which shined brightly green, glittering with early morning dew reflecting the mixing colours of the sunrise and the environment in tiny beams of contrasting light. It looked magnificently beautiful in a familiar and comforting way while evoking a unique sereness. This was the spot that would serve well for their camp.

Lestat started to deposit the supplies he was carrying which meant that this must be Lestat’s regular camping space therefore Armand quickly followed suit. They propped up the tent together only fumbling slightly with the securing pins. Once the bars were mostly assembled Lestat went back to the car to gather the rest of their supplies leaving Armand to finish the tent on his own.

He went right to task, but his thoughts went back to some early musings. In fact the very ones he had the first morning he woke up in Lestat’s home, ones he returned to often during this trip but never reaching any real conclusion on them.

He almost unwillingly realised he might not think of his time with Marius as fondly as he did before. Basically accepting that it felt like a bookend in the moment. Accepting that his time with Marius was not the idyllic fantasy he once believed in. However flawed and imperfect did not mean wasted or undeserving of consideration. The idea that it lacked consideration was certainly discredited by his continuous pondering.

While he could accept all the negativity in the relationship he still couldn’t help but wonder whether the path Marius chose for him was potentially preferable over the one he chose for himself. And still he rather quickly concluded this wasn’t the case for a single, but obvious, reason. Choice.

Choosing to be with Lestat felt like freedom while everything with Marius felt like a trap even if the restrictions were comforting in some ways. The discipline more often than not deserved and warranted. The course set for him was so clear that his desires no longer mattered. There certainly was a reassuredness in that.

But with Lestat everything felt equally as easy but also… independent. It certainly was his own choice. Yes, he felt like he was in charge of his life while also knowing there was someone there he could rely on. This combination was never offered to him before it was always one or the other.

Before and after Marius people expected all these decisions from him, all these ways he was supposed to act that would make him a normal, functioning person who no longer needed any guidance or assistance. With Marius he got assistance and guidance in spades but he also had no say in what he would accept. It was rigid and he had no real power outside of rebelling, which was either tolerated with condescending amusement or punished with volatile resentment.

Either model expected him to conform in one way or another. Either was unbearable in the long run. And now he was presented with the shining light of a third option.

All his musings quickly evaporated with his concentration on the task at hand. He finally was ready to actually hook up the finished tent to the ground pins when Lestat returned with the rest of their supplies immediately ready to help him with it. Not leave him stranded, not take over, but simply to assist.

Once the tent finally stood and was sufficiently secured by them, Lestat was already on task to retrieve some water from a cooling container he brought with him, quickly handing one bottle to an exhausted and sweating Armand. They both drank eagerly after the hike and the physical labour knowing there was still more they had to do.

“Considering you’re the experienced hunter here, how should we proceed now?” Armand mocked and Lestat rolled his eyes at him for once.

“We need to make a fire pit. A stone circle, larger logs on the bottom and twigs on top. You collect the wood, it’s better if I arrange the rocks.”

Armand simply complied and ventured into the sorrounding forest to collect the type of logs and twigs that Lestat requested, carrying them with both arms which made collecting harder and harder. Once he returned with hopefully enough, Lestat had already built a large stone circle and immediately took the wood from Armand to arrange it the way he saw fit.

“So, do we light it now?” asked Armand and Lestat laughed lightly, still appropriately placing the wood Armand had gathered.

“No, we light it in the evening. Now, we get ready to hunt,” he said just as he finished the arrangement of the campfire.

“Already?”

“Why not, we only have today and tomorrow,” Lestat simply stated. “Hunting is mostly waiting anyway.”

And how true that statement was. They wandered up a shallow hill, Lestat clearly knowing where to go.

“Isn’t it technically off-season right now?” Armand wondered out loud on the way, just to hear the other slightly scoff before answering.

“Technically yes but no one controls this area. It's too isolated. And I will only shoot hares if even that. It'll be fine,” Lestat explained, while handing some earplugs to Armand who readily put them in.

“Great, my boyfriend brings me to his country and immediately turns me into an accessory to a crime,” he said a bit louder to make sure Lestat heard him.

“Like you care about the laws of this country," Lestat scoffed again, a little louder too.

Well, he was pretty correct about that so Armand kept quiet and simply followed Lestat until they arrived at the designated spot. And then they waited. And waited. At one point Armand pulled out his phone to check his messages before Lestat elbowed him to put it away to wait some more.

“I think there’s something over there,” Armand pointed at something moving in the corner of his eye a few hours in, how many he could not determine at this point.

“If there was, it's certainly gone now. You have to be quiet,” Lestat chided.

“Sorry,” Armand said a lot more quietly. All sounds even his own voice muffled by the ear plugs. “But it’s been at least three hours…” he trailed off.

Lestat was clearly back to concentrating on the terrain they were observing and not much else.

The hunting took up most of the day before they actually achieved something aside from laying in some dirt for awhile. The day was spent mostly in silence and short whispers. Once in a while Armand distracted Lestat enough with small caresses that he took a break from his very keen spotting and turned to Armand. They ended up making out on the floor more than a few times.

But, towards mid-afternoon Lestat finally grew incredibly still before raising his rifle taking clear aim. Armand watched him in keen fascination rather than trying to search for what Lestat had apparently spotted.

The moment itself went by in a flash. One second Lestat was adjusting his aim the next a shot rang out. Armand flinched at the loud noise, despite the protections, not having foreseen just how blasting a shot would be. He was still fiddling with his ears after removing the barely protecting plugs when he realised Lestat was looking at him with the broadest smile he was capable of, still removing a plug of his own.

“You got something?” Armand asked astounded and still bewildered, ears still ringing uncomfortably.

“Seems like I did! Come,” and Lestat was off and over to his supposed trophy.

After a moment of collecting himself Armand went after the other and once he arrived Lestat was already holding a large hare by the ears, one clear shot through the eye.

“Wow,” Armand said but no real enthusiasm was bleeding through his voice.

He felt a little strange getting turned on by this but seeing Lestat excel at something that Armand had no clue about was simply hot to him. Dead little rabbit aside. Well, not completely.

“I do feel a little bad for it,” Armand admitted.

“Oh yes, I do too. But at least this one got to hop around in his forest all his life, that perspective is a bit more soothing,” Lestat said.
“Good point,” Armand simply said, not wanting to further a debate they basically had an agreement on.

“Come, let’s go back to our camp. It's already way past noon and we’ve had nothing to eat since breakfast,” said Lestat.

Once they arrived back at the meadow, Lestat hung up the rabbit by slinging a rope over a long tree branch to hoist it up high while Armand got their packed lunch out, precooked by the kitchen staff the night before to the same standard as their regular meals at the manor.

The rest of the day they spent wandering through the rather vast forest Lestat showing him various interesting spots that he had discovered throughout his hunting trips during his adolescence. An old unusually formed tree, a rock wall that lent itself to outdoor climbing, and lastly, the one Armand was most fond of, a deep pond, basically a lake formed by a small waterfall.

“In the summer I often went here to swim. I would even jump from there,” Lestat pointed up to a stony ledge next to the grove from which the water of a creek splattered down into the small lake beneath. “I never told my mother, I thought she would be worried about my safety and tell me to stop. I would’ve listened of course, but I guess that’s why I never told her.”

“Your relationship is so strange,” Armand blurted out without a thought, quickly retreating on it. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean that. Just… she seems to care about you a lot, but she also appears so cold. You deserve someone that’s actually there for you.”
“My mother isn't, how would you say… the most emotional person. You must understand, my father abused her just like he did me and now that she no longer has to play the perfect wife and mother anymore, I guess she just wants to be herself,” Lestat tried to conclude before he elaborated after a short pause. “You know the first thing she did once she got out of the hospital was to get a haircut. All her life she kept it long but the moment… he was gone she cut it. That much of a thumb my father had on her. She couldn’t even cut her hair the way she wanted. I’m not saying she is the most doting mother, she most definitely lives in her own world but the one thing I am certain of is that she loves me. She’s not perfect, she made many mistakes, she can even be cruel. But she protects me and she cares for me. And I do not have to worry whether she will be there for me.”

“Because you know she will,” it was a statement not a question but Lestat answered it anyway.

“No, I am not certain she will always be there but that is exactly why I don’t worry about it. If she were gone one day then so be it. It at least won’t be a surprise. And others will always be there,” and then Lestat truly turned towards Armand, crowded into his space. “I know you will.”
“Yes,” Armand basically breathed the words, their faces so close now. Armand shortened the distance between them even more. “I will always be there no matter what. I’ll be here for you Lestat.”

“And so will I for you,” Lestat said easily before moving in for a smooth and easy kiss.

He would never get bored of kissing Lestat. It came as easy as breathing. Kissing Lestat reminded him why he put up with everything else that ever happened to him to arrive at this point in his life.

Evening came and they finally lit the fire sitting together and starting to eat, drinking some tea they made with water and herbs they heated together in a kettle. They talked about everything and nothing. About the world, their lives, college and their jobs. France, England, the few happy memories of their childhoods, sports (that one was especially brief), movies they watched, movies they wanted to watch, and everything they looked forward to in their futures.

When Armand fell asleep in Lestat’s arms in the tent, remnants of the heat of the dying fire still permeating the air, he did so with a feeling of finally having arrived somewhere after what felt like a journey more than a life.

They initially planned to stay for the next day, only leaving once evening arrived, but the temperatures dropped a lot lower during the night than they anticipated. Despite wearing thick clothes and being bundled up together in a sleeping bag underneath multiple blankets, they still woke up shivering. They immediately put on as many layers of clothes as they had available, but they were also cooled by the environment and only helped so much in the short term. And what else was there to do? Lestat already got to show off and earned a hare in the process. Almost wordlessly, they decided to pack up and leave, to go back to the warm comfort of the mansion. 

Lestat called, making sure the staff was aware of their arrival and prepared everything for them, especially adequately heating up their room, which Armand reminded Lestat of at least three times while the phone was still ringing.

They even made the effort to carry everything in one go to leave as quickly as possible which honestly led to a slower, wobblier walk back to the car than when they left it quite relaxed the day before at a similar hour.

Once they were finally in the car Lestat turned the heating up, the interior of the car obviously having plummeted down to the same temperature as outside. About halfway back to the manor the car was warm enough for Armand to actually be comfortable enough to take his gloves off.

They arrived in the garage, greeted by two maids waiting with blankets and fresh coffees which they gratefully accepted. Armand only begrudgingly gave into being served like that but currently he had not a lot of will to resist in any way. Once they settled into the main study, after Lestat discarded the gun he used back into the safety closet in the corner of the room, they finally started to really warm up in front of a burning fireplace.

“I’m glad we’re back. Don't get me wrong watching you hunt was appealing but you could’ve warned me about almost freezing to death,” Armand laughed, still rubbing his hands together next to the open fire.

“Appealing, huh?” Lestat teased.

“Come on, you know what I mean. That’s why you took me in the first place.”

“Absolutely, it was,” infuriatingly unabashed he was. “Gabrielle will be delighted by the hare, I don’t think she has had any since I left.”

“Do you miss her when you're gone?” Armand inquired as casually as possible.

“Of course I do, despite everything we’ve discussed. Her presence is enough to calm me in the most stressful of times,” he said quietly. “So does yours. Now it certainly does.”

“I love you, Lestat,” he whispered, almost astounded these words were leaving his lips so easily nowadays.

The dinner was indeed a delight to Gabrielle. Armand did not realise he hadn’t seen her smile once during his stay but there was an easy one on her lips now.

“This is truly wonderful, caro,” she said lightly as the hare was served along with some side dishes, mostly different salads as well as some standard meal additions, potatoes and sauces and the likes.

All in all it looked utterly appetising; the cooks had done a wonderful job with it just as expected. All of them ate with enthusiasm any thoughts of the previous day's guilt gone from Armand’s mind.

Once Armand and Lestat retired to their room the tension between them grew steadily like it did most evenings they spent in the estate so far. Slowly they were undoing their bowties and opening their dress shirts buttons; they had already lost their suit jackets on the way towards the room, exchanging heated looks, knowing how the evening would end.

The anticipation between them was further stoked by showering together, Armand’s desire for it finally getting fulfilled on the regular. They were taking turns leathering up each other’s hair with the shared shampoo, wandering their hands over each other’s bodies more so in indulgence of each other than anything else. Drying each other with fluffy towels deposited in the bathroom earlier that day. They didn’t even put on their pyjamas knowing they would not actually keep them on for that long. Once they were in bed they drew their bodies close together immediately, laying kisses on each other's skin. All of it just felt routine at this point.

Armand was so at ease, so happy to be with Lestat in this room; in his house. In his country. Everything here belonged so utterly to Lestat and so did Armand. Not in a possessive way but in a devoted one. In a way that yearned to give Lestat everything he desired for both of their pleasure.

“Make love to me,” Armand gasped suddenly, like it might serve as a final act of this very devotion… deliverance.

“Make love to you?” Lestat asked rather befuddled, detaching his mouth from the other's neck, which reassured Armand a bit; allowing him to be a little bolder.

“Sorry, you want me to be crude? Fuck me?”

“You… you want me to…?” Lestat's inquiry trailed off into a question.

“Yes,” Armand affirmed without hesitation and all remaining boundaries were suddenly broken.

Lestat was certainly not careful in his first actions after receiving the affirmation. He was on top of Armand rather quickly, fully leaning over him and kissing him hungrily. It was like he was waiting for it and now that it was reality he could barely contain his delight. Armand understood that Lestat most likely saw it as a sign of new earned trust and in a way he was right. But it was also about Armand himself. He was ready for this act for himself independently of Lestat and his desires. He wanted to feel what Lestat had felt... wanted to feel it with Lestat. It almost felt like a missing connection. A way to finally give himself over to the other.

After a short moment Lestat’s hands started to wander over his body much like they did in the shower earlier if a lot more assured and determined, caressing his chest and stomach before heading lower. One of Lestat’s hands moved between his thighs encircling his hole a few times, while the other gently guided one of his legs up to make room for him, the sensation so gentle but utterly unfamiliar. Lestat removed the fingers caressing him to cover them in lube before bringing them back. Armand relaxed as much as possible, still sinking into the feelings of this newly offered submission.

Lestat’s fingers breached him quickly but timidly. It wasn’t necessarily painful, Lestat moving as carefully as he could. Armand certainly appreciated it, despite the unfamiliarity of the sensation. Finally being with Lestat in this way ultimately felt right. Just being with him in any way would always feel right.

The longer he continued his preparation the more relaxed Armand became and he slowly got used to the movement until he bucked his hips into it prompting Lestat to add a third finger, lightly stroking his prostrate. This time Armand couldn’t hold back a small whine, not out of discomfort but pleasure. The noise was as unfamiliar as the experience itself, though he tried to soothe himself by burying his face into Lestat's neck just to inhale the familiar scent he could find there. And Lestat's scent turned out to be as intoxicating as ever to no surprise to Armand.

After some time Lestat removed his fingers completely and finally pressed himself into Armand. He whined slightly, the pressure was unlike anything he felt before but then slowly started to relax into the sensation of being entered. It finally made him understand Lestat's instant connection after their first time together. Just feeling Lestat like this inspired him to surrender his entire existence to the other no matter whether the other would appreciate it.

“Is it good?” Lestat asked after a bit, clearly holding back like this was a little straining for him.

“Yeah, it’s fine… it’s good,” Armand basically breathed, trying not to let any of the vulnerability he felt slip out.

Lestat kissed him deeply, pushing his tongue into Armand’s mouth before having to put his energy somewhere else kissing down the other's throat. He stayed seated for a little while before starting to move more earnestly. He adjusted his thrusts bit by bit, changing the angle to bring Armand some pleasure too. It was almost amusing considering that physical pleasure was the last thing Armand wanted out of this act, the emotionality of it too overwhelming.

Still it felt good, unbelievably good and doubly so once Lestat started to touch his cock in tandem with his thrusts. Feeling Lestat like this was a truly new level of intimacy, one he couldn’t’ve imagined before. He simply let himself fall into the sensation knowing Lestat was the one he was sharing it with, the trust that had built between them by now unparalleled in his life.

Just when this revelation of his true motives came to him Lestat started to pick up the pace of his thrusts a little making every subsequent thought he had utterly incoherent, simply giving himself over to the pleasure the other gave to him. Lestat kept the same momentum until the both of them finished almost simultaneously.

Afterwards Armand simply floated in the sensations of what just occurred snuggled softly in the sheets of the overly comfortable bed, his emotions bubbling up inside him. He didn’t even register Lestat’s presence above him, still inside him until he moved. Completely lost in the overwhelming feelings that he finally allowed to enter him now that he broke this final barrier with Lestat.

Lestat pulling out in turn was less pleasant but he appreciated being able to just lie there after for once, instead of having to get rid of the condom like Lestat currently had to, while entering the bathroom to clean up in general. At the very least it left him some time to reflect.

All of it was so new and sudden but he did enjoy it; was almost euphoric with it. And he definitely wasn’t against repeating the act. The only thing that genuinely terrified him was admitting how much he craved Lestat in every way. Again and again, like an unstoppable force. Lestat came back out of the bathroom tissues in hand, passing one to Armand who thanked him before cleaning up the mess on his stomach.

“So, did you like it?” Lestat asked tentatively while getting back into bed and Armand discarded his tissue.

“Sure, I did,” was all Armand said, turning around to dreamily gaze at Lestat, all caution and nervous thoughts suddenly thrown to the wind.

How did this man still astound Armand with his beauty was beyond him especially in this moment looking so unassured while Armand was now so certain.

“Would you want to do it again?” now a little more playfully. “Or are you sticking with your first assertion?”

Armand thought back to that moment after their first time and laughed.

“No, I think a little variety would do us good, don’t you think?”

“Certainly,” Lestat replied, then pulled Armand towards him to bury his face in his hair, inhaling deeply.

“I love your smell,” he stated.

“Of course, you do. I’m using your shampoo.”

“No, I mean underneath it, there’s a smell that’s simply you, I couldn’t even name it but I swear it’s addictive. You should bottle it up and sell it.”

“Pretty sure there’s a book and movie about that and it didn’t end too well,” Armand murmured and Lestat laughed.

“Come, lie on me, let’s sleep,” he said before manoeuvring Armand to lie his head on his chest while wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

Armand fell asleep in Lestat’s arms like this before falling right out of them and into a dream.

He was painting something on a mounted canvas, though he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Every time he looked away from the painting and back at it the image shifted slightly, never taking on a coherent form.

What was coherent however was the room he found himself in. It was the master’s old workroom. A vast and almost industrial space, an open area with tall grey walls on all sides, though it was covered with both finished and in-progress works as well as soft furniture and light cloth draping’s all in warm tones of red and brown giving the room a more comfortable feel. Yes, it was a room he was always quite comfortable in.

Suddenly a hand was softly resting on his bare back. He had not noticed his state of undress before only wearing shorts but it wasn't an unusual state for him to be in at least in this room anyway. A pale hand reached up to lay on top of his holding the brush, slightly guiding him now making the strokes for him using his own hand.

“You have a magnificent talent, Amadeo,” Marius said.

Armand lowered his own hand slightly to escape the others grip, careful to not let the tip of his brush touch the canvas.

“If that’s so then let me paint by myself, Master,” he responded, dropping the hand holding the brush to his side, which only made Marius laugh before he kissed his head. Armand slowly raised the brush to the canvas again and continued painting while he felt a watchful eye overlooking the scene.

The colours on the canvas before him slowly melted away stroke by stroke and he suddenly sat in a familiar bare room with an unspecified, constantly morphing service worker sitting before him.

“—you shared a room. Can you see how that might be inappropriate?”

“No, I really can’t. He wasn’t just my guardian, not just the master of the estate, he was also my friend. How is that wrong?” The words seemed distant, like an echo in his head even though he knew they were spoken by him. But by now only the memory held any meaning.

Suddenly, without having received a response, the person in front of him changed to Marius again. This time he actually saw him not just heard his voice and he was holding his face now exactly like he did the last day he ever saw him. And he spoke the very same words as he did in that final encounter.

“This separation will not be forever, Amadeo. We will see each other again one day, I’m certain but now you must leave. It is out of my hands,” Armand felt tears rolling down his cheeks and that was a correct recollection. He was crying at the time in hard and deep sobs he felt like he was dying. “No, no, no, you can’t! Don’t make me, don’t—"

Armand woke up with a shout.

He felt Lestat next to him immediately jolt up too. The other stared at him in shock, meanwhile everything was bubbling up in Armand and he simply started to cry not even looking at Lestat anymore.

“What is it? What happened?” Lestat asked in a panic, lightly touching his arm and back.

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing,” he said through the sobs burying his face in his drawn knees while folding in on himself. “I just had a weird dream, go back to sleep. I’m sorry, I can leave.”

He already moved to get out of bed before Lestat stopped him by taking a firmer hold on his arms.

“No, wait, come here,” he pulled Armand towards him, unfolding his position and cradled him against himself.

With this permission Armand simply let himself sob his heart out, his tears and snot soaking into Lestat’s undershirt but the man just continued to hold him while comforting him with small shushes and reassuring caresses of his hand across Armand's back.

“Was it a memory dream?” Lestat asked very quietly after some time once Armand’s sobs slowed down into silent crying.

Armand paused slightly but then nodded his head against the chest he was resting on.

“I get those too. Lying on the cold floor, beaten to a pulp. It feels so real.”

Armand looked up at Lestat, his face nothing but open and sincere. He clearly wanted to understand, basically yearned for it. But how could he, if even Armand himself couldn’t quite do it. Still he had to try at least to some degree.

“They’re mostly not bad ones. At least at the time the moments were good but now that I see them in retrospect, they’re… I don’t really know… off, I guess? When I thought of them they were beautiful but now when I feel them it’s like they’re rotten. They’re not what I once thought,” he wished he could explain it to Lestat, but he also knew now how repellent that could be. How repellent Armand himself might become to him.

“Then don’t feel them. Don’t think of them. Be here with me at the moment. That is what we are meant for. Our past is irrelevant in light of our future. Our time together.”

Lestat’s words penetrated him deeply. They shattered every single emotional response he had, replacing them with his reasonable skills. And they told him that his current relation with Lestat was unlike any other, that the previous one shattered under examination. He simply let himself feel with Lestat and what he felt was overwhelming happiness and maybe that alone was enough to carry him through. All of it made it easy to fall back into sleep while being held by the man he loved like no other.

That next morning, they were sitting in the kitchen nook with Gabrielle, enjoying their breakfast as usual when Lestat’s phone started to ring. That was an unusual occurrence in general, most of Lestat’s friends being texters but even more so now considering no one had called during the entire winter break so far.

“I have to take this,” Lestat said absentmindedly.

Then he swiftly left the room before even answering the call. For the first time since the library fight, Armand and Gabrielle were alone together. Instead of addressing the tension they simply indulged the silence between them. Armand did not mind her presence and he had grown less resentful of her treatment of Lestat, simply because Lestat did not seem all that bitter over it. So he tolerated Gabrielle because Lestat loved her and she didn’t antagonise him further. A win-win for them. After a few moments Lestat returned. A look of weary marred his features before he even dared to speak up.

“Unfortunately I have to leave right now. I know this is a divergence from the set plan but it is sadly unavoidable. I’m needed back,” he clearly tried to be as apathetic as possible while delivering this message, but failed, a certain weary coming through.

“What do you mean you’re needed back? You mean you’re actually leaving?” he asked, absolutely astounded and detecting the other's apprehension.

“Yes, I have to go back to our college right now.”

Armand quickly stood up, crowding into Lestat’s space but before he could answer Gabrielle spoke up.

“Tout ce que tu penses être le mieux, chèr,” she said, without looking at Lestat, her tone unreadable. She could’ve been utterly delighted or deeply annoyed, Armand couldn’t tell.

He still got closer to Lestat, basically crowding him into a corner so he could not escape.

“We still have a week, don’t leave. Why would you even go back?” Armand pleaded.

“I simply have to go,” Lestat answered, sounding deeply apologetic, almost pained. Then he said the almost unsurprising thing. “It’s my professor, he needs my help.”

“Why? No work position is worth losing a week of your well-earned break. I mean… your painting isn’t even finished yet, I promised to give it to you at the end of our trip, don’t make me break my promise,” he tried to argue knowing how desperate he sounded. Meanwhile some of the staff went past the door to the kitchen with Lestat’s luggage in hand heading towards the garage. “We could do so much more together and you’re officially off work, why return regardless?”
“I told you before that there are times when he needs me. It does not mean I cherish you any less,” he reassured, holding Armand’s face between his hands, planting a kiss on his unresponsive mouth. “I will send a taxi for you in a week, don’t worry about any costs, I will cover everything. I have to go now but we will reunite soon, mon cher.”

Then he retracted himself from Armand’s grip and swiftly left the room, closing the door behind him. Armand had to process his words before he was able to hurry after Lestat. He passed room after room navigating through the winding corridor, by now knowing exactly where to head to pursue Lestat. He even went through one of the side doors closer to the garage than the main entrance. Still his efforts of pursuing were unsuccessful. Once he arrived in the garage the rental car was already gone and so was Lestat.