? Because You Made Him CryDisclaimers: These vampires belong to Anne Rice, not me. Warnings: Violence, Adult Situations Spoilers: To Queen, I guess. Lestat sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, annoyed when a few strands fell over his eyes regardless. Something was wrong with his fledgling, something Louis was trying to hide, albeit not very well. His Beautiful One was curled up on the recliner, knees bent beneath him, and his arms were up close, sheltering a book in front of his face, which was partially hidden by his hair. That he hadn't tied his hair back or noticed that he had been staring at the same page for well over half an hour now, and that he hadn't bothered to remove his muddy shoes, all told Lestat, who wasn't perceptive by nature, that Louis was either thinking very hard about something, or that he was fighting his emotions. He had been watching his fledgling ever since Louis came home, standing on the staircase without attracting his lover's attention. Louis looked even more pathetic than usual, his jeans frayed and tearing at every seam, his shirt threadbare and the loose sweater over that torn down the side. He was every inch the reclusive bookworm, so that no one would know he lived with one of the wealthiest men in the world. And right now, one of the most frustrated and worried men in the world. He comes home, doesn't say anything, just curls up and plays dead, Lestat growled inwardly. And doesn't even think that I might go insane over what's wrong. He sighed again and closed his eyes, but it was hopeless. He would just have to go down and try to talk to him. Lestat jumped over the banister, landing silently and creeping over to his lover, gently putting his arm on Louis' shoulder. "Mon chere...petit...what's wrong?" Louis gave a little start at his touch, then settled down when he saw who it was. "Nothing...nothing, Lestat. I...I just...um...just very tired...that's all." There was a handkerchief in his hand, and he quickly wiped away what Lestat could see were tears. The cloth was stained red and brown now, so Louis must have been crying for a long time now. His maker shook his head and knelt down in front of him, softly taking the book out of his lax grip and setting it on the table. Lestat had learned from long experience that Louis was something to be handled carefully, like spun glass, instead of being slapped around, no matter how much he wanted to get the answer quickly. "It must be something," he whispered, curling his fingers around Louis' hand. "Or else you would not be huddled here like a little lost child." "Am I that transparent?" Louis murmured. "Even you do not dwell on a single page for the better part of an hour, chere. Please tell me what's the matter." Lestat took hold of Louis' other hand, caressing them. Louis closed his eyes. Such tender manipulation never failed to lower his defenses and make him open up. He glanced down into Lestat's gray eyes, but he shook his head. "No, Lestat. I don't want to talk about it." Lestat gave an exasperated sigh and rose up, scooting Louis further against the recliner so he could sit on the edge. "So you want to sulk, and you want me to just sit quietly by and watch you hurt inside?" He released one of his hands so he could stroke his cheek. "Lestat...I...I just don't want to think about it, please..." Lestat leaned closer, so that their faces were only inches apart. He put both of his hands on either side of his lover's face, heating his cool skin and caressing his lips, his eyelids, setting him at ease. Another tear squeezed out, so he took the handkerchief and wiped it away. "Was it so awful, my love?" Louis nodded slowly, but he didn't reply. Lestat just smiled and bent to kiss him, brushing his fledgling's lips with his own, pulling his mouth open to taste the inner warmth. Louis utterly relaxed, his head falling back. Lestat took a deep breath, then withdrew from his fledgling's mouth and instead bit into Louis' throat, lapping up the spicy blood that flowed into him. Now Louis stiffened in surprise, and his arms wrapped around Lestat's body, holding him as if he would fall. His mind opened up like a blossoming flower. Walking down the street...just fed...going home now...beautiful night, will Lestat be home?...a few hours to dawn, starting to feel sleepy already...barely notice the bar ahead..."hey, it's the pretty little queer!" Turn in surprise, who said that? Image of a large man, could be a football player, is he drunk? "Yeah, you...I seen you with that other fag, always kissing and shit. It's disgusting!" Just ignore him, just ignore him, going home to Lestat, to Lestat-- "It's an abomination! It's a sin against God! A crime against nature! God damns all sinners!" Quicken the pace, he's wrong, he's wrong, God is loving, God is merciful-- "He deshtroyed a whole damn city o' you fuckers! You're an abomination! Hateful in his sight! Damn queer! How'd you like to get screwed by a real man?!" Don't let him see the tears. Turn left into an alley, run, away from his loud cries...he's wrong...home...going home now...just keep running, hide the tears... Lestat pulled out of his fledgling, swirling the blood around to seal the wound. Louis' breathing was faint, and his eyes had a glazed stare to them. Lestat stood up and eased his arms under his fledgling, lifting up so he could carry him to bed before the sun came too close. Once he had tucked Louis safely into bed and kissed him, he took off downstairs and left the house, quickly heading for the bar. It was not difficult to find. Louis had predictable hunting patterns. As soon as he found it, he boldly went inside, searching for the bastard who had taunted his lover. "Well, well, well, if it ain't the faggot himself!" Lestat turned to his right, murder in his eyes, and spotted his prey. Every other man in the bar was laughing, but the moment Lestat took a step towards the mortal, the laughter ceased and the rest of the mortals got up, intent on the blonde in the center. "You came into the wrong damn bar," someone muttered, and there were general nods of ascent. A few men got between Lestat and the door. The vampire didn't say a word. Instead he glanced at the open door. He heard a few sadistic chuckles as the mortals thought he wanted to run away, but their smiles vanished when the door suddenly slammed shut by itself. All the other doors closed and locked without any help. The bar was deathly silent. After a few seconds, though, they could begin to hear a low snarling sound coming from the center of the room. The ones closest to Lestat gasped and backed into the crowd as they realized it was coming from him. His fangs were in plain view. "What the fuck--?" Lestat stared at the bar and instantly all the liquor ignited into a gigantic fireball, consuming every mortal within ten feet. Screams filled the air as burning bodies flailed around, lighting other people up and spreading the flames to the tables and chairs and walls. A few mortals attacked him, but each assailant was casually eviscerated, decapitated or ripped to pieces. Blood splattered against the walls, flying up into the vampire's face. He did not allow himself to drink from any of their putrid blood. Within seconds, everything was an indescribable chaos. And there, shrinking in the corner, was the one who had started it all. Lestat stalked towards him, striking down every burning body that happened to cross between the two. The mortal started screaming as the vampire came closer. The fire made his eyes seem red, and his fangs shone like a wolf's. Blood streamed through his hair and clothes. Lestat bent, seized the man's shirt, and dragged him up a foot off the ground. "Why? Why are you doing this?!" Lestat hissed and stared deep into his victim's eyes. "Because you made him cry." With that, he ripped out the man's left arm, ignoring his insane shrieks and tossing the limb aside as he went for the other one. The man's blood looked fake, like water pouring from two gaping holes on both sides of his body. Once the legs had been torn away, like wings off a fly, Lestat tossed him into the alcohol-fueled firestorm. The screams lasted for several seconds, until finally dropping off into oblivion. His task done, Lestat ascended straight up, crashing through the roof and heading home, feeling rather pleased with himself. He would have to take a fast shower before the sun came up, he could feel the hot rays turning the sky light pink, but then he could fall asleep next to Louis, knowing this place would never bother him again. The End
