Author's Note: Lestat and Louis are mortals at UCLA, a school I picked simply because it's my alma mater and I've lived in the city my entire life and thus requires no research of me to write, which is always a good thing. They are approximately the same ages as when they died, 21 and 25 respectively.

Here is a map of UCLA and the surrounding environs. It's large. And built on a mountain. Fun, fun, fun. Louis lives to the south and Lestat to the west. I also took pictures of apartments and various locations. Check them out here.

Other notes about UCLA. TA = teacher's assistant. URSA is the automated registration system for dropping and adding classes and such. Fall quarter starts around September 30th or thereabouts. Each quarter is 10 weeks.

I stole the title from a song by The Police which is, of all things, about a teacher having an affair with his student. ^_^ Other songs mentioned are The More You Ignore Me the Closer I Get by Morrissey and Oh Father by Madonna.

Louis/Lestat. Rated NC-17. AU

~ Chapter 1 ~

The alarm rang, jerking him out of a deep sleep. Louis fumbled for the button, trying to turn it off without actually getting out of bed, but it just wasn't working. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and scooted over to the clock, finally quieting the infernal ringing.

What he really wanted was to just lie back down and drift off, but he knew it was impossible. If only he hadn't been so nervous last night and had actually been able to get some sleep. Not that he didn't have a reason to be nervous, but it hadn't made him any less so to stay up all night worrying about it.

Today was his first day as a TA. Today he would set foot in the classroom, not as a student, but as a teacher. A teacher to a class full of students who were probably not that much younger than he and some who might even be older.

Would they listen to him? Would they respect him? Would they enjoy his class or would they even care enough to show up? Would he fail miserably?

No, no, no! Stop thinking like that! He berated himself. This isn't helping!

Tossing his T-shirt and shorts on the floor, he headed for the shower. He closed his eyes and stood still for a few minutes, just letting the hot water flow over him. At least it helped him wake up a little. Sort of. He soaped himself up and washed his hair, sorely tempted to stay under for a little longer. There wasn't time to linger, though, so finally he shut off the tap and grabbed a towel.

After drying himself he brushed his teeth and wiped down the mirror to examine his face. He did want to make a good impression today, so he decided he'd better shave. Thankfully he wasn't very hairy and wasn't cursed, as so many pale men with dark hair are, with that look of a five o'clock shadow under their skin even when they've just shaved.

Now the question of what to wear. He came out of the bathroom and rummaged around in the closet, finally deciding on a pair of tight jeans, green shirt, and a grey sweater. He picked them because they were comfortable, totally unaware of the way the deep green of the shirt collar poking out from his sweater so perfectly complemented his eyes.

The time, the time, what time is it anyway? Agh, 9 already!? He quickly ran a brush through his still-damp hair and, grabbing his bag, ran out the door.

Thank God he didn't live far. He didn't want to be late for his first day, couldn't afford to mess this up. With his bag slung over his shoulder, he hurried up the street to the shuttle that would take him up the hill to campus. It was about to pull away just as he got there but he managed to catch it in time.

His class was in...damn, where was it again? He fumbled in his bag for his schedule. Ah, Public Policy. Good, the shuttle would drop him pretty close.

Once off the shuttle, he hurried across the street, past Dodd Hall and LuValle Commons. The smells of breakfast wafted out of the coffee house as he passed...ah, breakfast! That's what he'd forgotten. Well there was no time for it now. He sighed and hurried on.

It was only 9.25 when he got into the classroom. Still five minutes to spare. Only a few students so far, he thought, as he put his bag down at the front table and looked around. No one seemed to pay him any mind, so he just went about his business, getting out his roll sheet and other papers. There'd been two lectures already this week, so technically they did have things they could discuss, but he didn't plan on doing much beyond introductions and an overview of the class today.

Students straggled in here and there and soon the room was nearly full. When his watch said 9.30, Louis cleared his throat and introduced himself.

"Ah, good morning, my name is Louis Pointe du Lac. This is discussion 1B for English 10A: English Literature through 1600, so...if that's not what you're here for, you're in the wrong class."

He smiled and looked around. Well no one got up to leave, so I suppose that's a good sign, he thought. Looking around again, he noticed everyone seemed to be staring at him, some almost dreamily. He couldn't quite figure it out and so just nervously ran his hand through his hair and tried to get on with his introduction.

"Ah, I guess I'll pass out the syllabus first. This outlines how the discussion will be broken down according to the lectures. Please be sure to do your reading before you come to class so you'll be ready to participate. Participation will count as a large part of your grade," he continued, telling them about tests and such.

They're still staring, he thought, not realizing that this was just the effect he tended to have on people when they first saw him.

His large, bright green eyes enhanced by the green shirt he'd so casually picked out this morning, his black hair falling around his face to contrast sharply with his pale skin, his high cheekbones and straight nose, his wide, expressive mouth. Louis was totally oblivious to the fact that he looked more like he belonged on the cover of a magazine than in the classroom. The students, on the other hand, were all too aware.

After he finished explaining about the class, he took out the roll sheet. "This was printed earlier this week, so I'm sure there are going to be some of you who've added late and aren't listed yet. Don't worry about it, I'll just write your names down here for now." He pushed his hair out of his face and looked down at the paper.

"OK, why don't we go around the class and introduce ourselves. Just give your name, year, major, and tell us why you're taking this class," he paused for a minute and gave a little smile. "Probably just a GE requirement for most of you," he sighed. That's the trouble with lower division classes, he thought, no one ever takes them because they're interested...

He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair again, a nervous gesture that he didn't even notice himself doing and certainly didn't realize how unbelievably sexy it looked. "I guess it makes sense for me to start off, as I said before, my name is Louis. I'm currently working on my Master's in English literature, and this is my first time as a TA."

Before he could ask the girl in the front row to go next, a girl in the back started waving her hand furiously, "Hey Louis!" she said loudly, "D'you have a girlfriend?" She couldn't have been more than 17 or 18. Freshmen, he thought, shaking his head.

Embarrassed, but determined not to show it, he looked straight at her. "That's hardly an appropriate question," he replied smoothly. "Why don't you start off the introductions?"

The rest of the class looked rather disappointed at his lack of response, but he didn't notice. The freshman started off on a rambling rundown on her entire life before Louis cut in, "I'm sorry, but we do have to get through the entire class, so can you please keep it short?" he asked coldly. The girl was annoying as hell and he spitefully wished she'd drop the class.

Just when the students had finished introducing themselves, the door flew open and in waltzed the most beautiful creature Louis had ever laid eyes on. Tall with wavy blond hair that fell about half way down his neck, blue-ish grey eyes, and a wicked smile on his perfectly formed mouth.

"Sorry I'm late," he said with a slight French accent, "I'm just not a morning person." With a heart-stopping wink in Louis's direction, he flopped down into a chair, "So what did I miss?"

~ Chapter 2 ~

Lestat continued to grin at the flustered green-eyed dream before him. Perfect! Perfect! Yes! Score one for Lestat! In his mind he was jumping around screaming. Everything was going according to plan.

Monday, the first day of lecture. Boring, boring, boring. He always hated the first day of a new class. You never knew when you might miss something important if you didn't show up, like the class suddenly being moved to a building halfway across campus.

He grimaced at the memory. The least they could have done was post a notice that the class had moved. Admittedly he hadn't bothered to show up until 4th week, but still. Well, he'd learned his lesson anyway.

Just when he'd had enough and was about to settle down for a nap, the professor stopped his droning and announced that he would introduce the TAs. Oh, this might be interesting.

Four grad students stood up, one guy and three girls. The three girls introduced themselves and listed which sections they were teaching, but Lestat didn't hear a thing. He had eyes only for the tall, dark haired angel. It was lust at first sight. Hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing khakis, a black T-shirt, and a nervous look on his face, he obviously hadn't been expecting to get up in front of the class today.

"Ah, I'm Louis Pointe du Lac. I'll be teaching sections B, D, and E." Once he was finished all four TAs sat back down.

The spell was broken and Lestat was able to think again. Frantically he dug in his pocket. Where the hell is that damn paper!? He had it somewhere - a schedule of his classes. What section was he enrolled in? There!

He pulled the crumpled paper out and smoothed it out on the desk. English 10A...section...section...section C!? No, no, no! That would never do! His eyes wild he looked around for someone with a catalogue.

"I need this!" he hissed at a frightened looking girl next to him.

Without waiting for an answer, he took the catalogue from her. He looked at the section listing, D and E were out. Both were Friday afternoons and he had a theatre class then. But section B...9.30 Friday mornings. Ugh, kinda early, but it was his only choice. He quickly wrote down the number for the class and got out his cell phone.

Tossing the catalogue back at the girl, he dialed URSA, punching in the menu options in the correct order, not wanting to sit through her annoying voice any longer than necessary. Finally, there was the menu he needed. Drop section C; add section B. He waited breathlessly for her answer. Was the class full? Please God, let there be room left. I need this! Yes! I'm in!

No need to stay here any longer. He smiled at the girl next to him - why was she looking at him so strangely anyway? - and off he went, counting the seconds until Wednesday afternoon and the next lecture.

Lestat's bedroom looked like a whirlwind had just been through. Clothes were strewn everywhere except for a small patch that had been cleared in front of the full length mirror that hung on the back of the door. After literally hours of indecision, he had finally settled on an outfit.

His blond hair was free, falling in his face. He'd decided not to overdo the jewelry, just a thin silver chain around his neck and one small silver hoop and a small diamond, both in his left ear. He had several holes in each ear, never filling them all at once, just picking and choosing depending on his outfit and his mood.

A tight black, ribbed turtleneck, low slung red and black plaid pants that ended mid-calf, a black belt and black boots completed the ensemble.

Rings! He needed rings. More rummaging...there they were. Adding a couple silver rings to each hand, he ran his long fingers through his hair, and gave the mirror one last glance. Satisfied that no one could resist his charms, he grabbed his silver messenger bag and headed out the door.

12 o'clock. Time to hang out, eat lunch, and still be on time for lecture at 1.30. Perfect.

...Right.

"How the hell did it get to be 2 o'clock!?" Lestat screamed.

"Dude, you've been raving on about this guy for like an hour at least," Sebastien replied.

Lestat glared at the pink-haired boy. "Bastien, I thought you were my friend, how could you let this happen!?"

He had arrived at Northern Lights at 12.30. He was meeting a bunch of friends he hadn't seen since before summer vacation and they all wanted to hear about his trip to France. They thought it was exciting, Lestat didn't. France was home; home was boring. He tried vainly to convey that concept.

He had seen his parents and brothers, hung out with a few old friends, how exciting was that? No, what was exciting to Lestat was Louis Pointe du Lac, and thus his friends were regaled with tales of Louis's beauty and Lestat's plans to seduce him.

Lestat had never made his sexual preference a secret, often prattling on about this or that guy, and he flirted relentlessly with just about anyone who crossed his path, male or female. Many of his friends were bi or gay as well - in the theatre department it was hardly a novelty.

Nevertheless, none of them had ever heard Lestat become this passionate about anyone before. He'd talked and talked, not noticing as friend after friend left to go to class, until only Sebastien was left.

"You'd better get going then, huh Lestat?" Sebastien asked calmly, "I thought you said your class was in Moore? That's a bit of a walk."

With a final glare at his friend, Lestat turned and stalked off to class.

"No sense in letting good food go to waste," grabbing Lestat's barely touched chips and Coke, Sebastien headed off to his own class.

It's not so bad, Lestat thought hopefully. Maybe he'll be sitting in the back. But he knew his hopes were probably futile. Poking his head into the crowded lecture hall, his fears were confirmed. His beautiful angel was sitting right in the very first damn row.

I've got two choices. I could sit through the rest of the lecture and wait for him to leave hoping he uses this door and not the front, or I could just leave now.

He decided to sit through the lecture, for now anyway. He alternated between trying to catch a glimpse of Louis and imagining the various ways he would kill Bastien for letting him be late. But luck was not on his side today, and when class ended he saw Louis get up and leave by the front door.

A scowl on his face, Lestat wandered out of the room, trying to come up with a plan for Friday.

He was up bright and early Friday morning; this time nothing was going to ruin his plan. He had on the same outfit as Wednesday. He wasn't going to let it go to waste, not after he'd spent so many hours deciding on the perfect look.

First impressions are everything, he thought, and I'm going to make this one count.

Class started at 9.30. Lestat was at the coffeehouse in LuValle Commons picking at a chocolate muffin at 9.20. He watched as Louis hurried past, giving the eatery a pained glance that clearly said he hadn't had breakfast yet.

"Is that him?" A skinny arm reached past him and grabbed at the muffin. Lestat turned around to see Bastien smiling at him. "Heh, your description didn't do him justice."

"I told you he was beautiful, didn't I?" Lestat replied with a smile of his own. "What're you doing here anyway? I didn't think you had classes on Friday."

"You piqued my interest," Bastien laughed. "I had to see him for myself. I'm gonna be in the computer lab in Public Policy, 'kay? Lemme know how it goes." Taking the last piece of Lestat's muffin, he headed out the door.

"Quit living vicariously through me and get your own life!" Lestat laughed back as he left.

9.35. Everyone should be in class by now, he thought.

Downing his coffee, he picked up his bag and left. At 9.40 he was standing outside the door. He listened as the other students gave their introductions and when he heard the pause signifying that everyone was finished, he took a deep breath.

This is it. Time for my big entrance.

Flinging open the door, he sauntered in with a smile. He had rehearsed these lines over and over again in his head.

"Sorry I'm late, I'm just not a morning person." He looked at Louis. Dear God, those eyes. He had been too far away before to see those beautiful green eyes. Be still my heart.

Oh, this is going to be even better than I thought. With a wink at Louis, he sat down. "So what did I miss?"

~ Chapter 3 ~

"Ah, we, we're just introducing ourselves. The rest of the class is finished, so why don't you tell us your name, year, major, and why you're taking this class," Louis said with a smile, struggling to regain his composure.

"My name is Lestat Lioncourt. 3rd year. Theatre major. And I'm taking this class because it's a requirement, why else?" Lestat grinned, remembering Louis's earlier comment. "And also because I like Shakespeare," he added with a laugh.

It was true enough, he loved the Bard, but his motives for mentioning it were not exactly pure. The more things that separated him from the rest of the sheep in this class, the better. And Louis did smile a bit at that, so that was good.

"OK then, the rest of you can go. Please remember to do the reading for next week. Lestat, please stay for a minute and I'll get a syllabus for you."

Lestat came up to the front while everyone else made their way out the door. Quite a few, including the annoying Freshman from earlier, darted one last glance over in Louis's direction, but anyone whose gaze lingered too long earned a glare from Lestat, and soon the room was empty but for the two of them.

Louis tried to concentrate on finding an extra syllabus, but his eyes kept wandering over to Lestat. Damn, he's gorgeous. No, no, he's my student, one does not think about one's students this way. And besides, he tried vainly to convince himself, he's not my type, too flashy, too much of a flirt.

He was too busy trying to talk himself out of the attraction he felt that he didn't even notice when Lestat came up beside him, "Found it yet?" a soft voice whispered in his ear in French.

Startled, Louis turned his head and found himself practically nose to nose with Lestat. "Ah, no I can't seem to find an extra copy..." he replied, also in French, quickly backing away.

"So you do speak French?" Lestat asked. "You don't have much of an accent with your English. I probably wouldn't've even noticed it but for your name."

"Hmm? Yeah, I was born and raised in Paris. My family moved to the US about ten years ago," Louis replied. You're not supposed to be chatting, you're supposed to be finding him a syllabus, he chided himself.

He told himself that he really didn't want to spend any more time with Lestat than necessary but there was no other choice, conveniently forgetting that he could have given him a syllabus from one of his other discussions as the only difference was the times printed on them for class. "Why don't you come with me to make a copy of this," he said.

"My pleasure," Lestat smiled. Better and better. And Bastien thought this was a stupid idea. Ha! No way I'm just going to be some face in the crowd, I've got to set myself apart from the other students. This is working out even better than I thought! Now to get him talking...

"So you moved from Paris to LA?" he asked as they headed down the street to the student store. All eyes were upon them as they walked together. We make quite a pair, Lestat thought happily, basking in the attention. Louis didn't seem to notice at all.

"No, not LA. We moved to New Orleans. I have family who've lived there since before the Revolution. I finished high school there and then moved out here to go to UCLA." Louis couldn't help but smile, surprised at his own uncharacteristic talkativeness. Lestat's mood was rubbing off on him. "And you're from...?"

"The country. Auvergne. It's boring!" Lestat laughed. "I like it much better here. I plan to stay after I graduate. I'm going to be famous, a star you know!" Louis smiled back at him and Lestat couldn't resist the temptation. He turned and planted a playful kiss on those full, lush lips.

Louis stood stock still, his face burning. I knew I should have just given him a copy of the syllabus for one of the other sections! I knew spending time with him was a bad idea!

He could still feel Lestat's lips on his, though they'd only touched for a second. Damn, damn, damn. He put one hand on his hip and ran the other through his hair. And the worst of it is, he probably didn't mean a thing by it, Louis thought. He looks like he'd kiss a tree if he was in a good mood.

Mustering all the anger he could, he grabbed Lestat by the shoulder and started walking again, "What the hell was that?" he hissed. "First of all, we're in public, for Christ's sake! Secondly, I don't even know you! Third, and this is the most important part so pay attention, you're my student! That was not appropriate!" Letting go of Lestat, he headed down the stairs to the copy room.

"Aha! But I notice you didn't say anything like 'I'm not interested in men, you flaming faggot!' or 'You're not my type, I don't like blonds!' now did you?" Lestat called after him in French.

Louis looked around the room. Thank God for small miracles, he thought. No one seemed to have understood what was just said. He slammed down the lid and pressed copy, then, green eyes blazing, he turned around to face Lestat.

Realizing he had gone too far, Lestat stood silently with his shoulders slumped and his head down. Damn it, now I've done it, he thought. And we were getting on so well, too. I've ruined everything... Why can't I ever learn not to be so impulsive?

Seeing him like that, Louis's anger faded as quickly as it had flared up. Damn him...why does he have to be so, so...likeable. With a sigh, Louis took the copy and handed it to Lestat. Putting the original in his bag he turned to leave. "Well, are you coming or not?"

"Coming?" Lestat repeated, confused.

Refusing to look him in the eye, Louis continued, "I haven't eaten yet, are you coming with me or not?" Without waiting for an answer, he headed out the door and up the stairs.

Lestat stood still for a minute, trying to process what had just happened. Finally deciding that all that mattered was that he still had a chance, he bounded up the stairs after Louis.

Louis was already seated at a small table near the fire, a coffee and bagel in front of him, when Lestat walked through the door. Good, there's no line, he thought. He went up and ordered a Coke, then joined Louis at the table. "So I'm forgiven?"

Leaning back in his chair, Louis studied the man across from him. He couldn't deny the attraction he felt, but he was determined not to act on it.

I'm a teacher, he's my student, he repeated to himself. I have to consider my position. "Forgiven," he agreed with a smile. "But don't do it again."

They talked for quite some time, and Louis was surprised to find that they actually had a lot in common. He's not just another dumb blond, he thought with a smile.

"What time is it, anyway?" Lestat asked suddenly.

Louis looked at his watch, "12.30." Had it been that long? They'd been sitting here for nearly two hours. He did a double take.

"12.30!?" They both exclaimed, almost at once.

"I've got another discussion in 15 minutes," Louis said.

"And I've got my theatre class at one," Lestat added reluctantly.

They sat looking at each other for a few minutes, neither quite knowing what to say. Louis was the first to break the awkward silence.

"Well, I guess I'd better get going then," he said, looking away.

"I...yeah, me too." Lestat stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder.

He wanted to ask Louis out, wanted to ask if he could see him this weekend, but he knew what the answer would be. Louis was really taking this teacher thing seriously, which was cute of him, but it made things harder for Lestat.

He'd have to hash out a plan with Bastien. ...Bastien!? Oh God, I totally forgot about him. He's gonna be so pissed with me for leaving him hanging, but what do I care? I'd gladly face the wrath of a thousand nosey Bastiens for a couple hours with Louis, he thought with a smile.

"See you next week, then," he said with a wave and headed out the door.

Louis watched Lestat leave and then slowly picked up his bag and made his own way to the door.

Nine more weeks until the end of the quarter, he thought with a sigh. Nine weeks until I'm no longer his teacher. It seemed like a million years. He hoped he would survive that long.

~ Chapter 4 ~

Thirty minutes until class. Well, Public Policy was on the way, might as well collect Bastien while he was at it.

The more he thought about what he'd tell Bastien, the more excited he became. This morning had actually gone amazingly well! Not that he'd thought it wouldn't, he quickly told himself. Even in his own mind he was very conscious to always project the image of being someone for whom the concept of not getting what he wanted wasn't one he was familiar with. But still, it was always exciting when things went right the first time.

Once inside the building, Lestat looked through the glass wall of the computer room. Ah, there he was. Bastien was certainly easy to find in a crowd. Spiky pink hair stood out most anywhere.

Before Lestat had a chance to enter, Sebastien turned around and gave his friend a look of annoyance that clearly said, "Where the hell have you been? I've been waiting here forever!" he raised a pierced eyebrow in a questioning glance and was rewarded with a dazzling smile and a double thumbs up.

Oh, this should be interesting, Sebastien thought as he logged off and went out to join Lestat.

"So I take it things went well?" The words were barely out of his mouth before Lestat launched into a play-by-play of the morning's activities. They walked as they talked, well, as Lestat talked. Sebastien couldn't get a word in edgewise, so he just settled for nodding and the occasional "uh-huh."

Lestat finally reached the end of his tale and looked expectantly at his friend. "So what do you think? You've gotta help me come up with a plan here."

"A plan...to do what?" he hesitated. "To become friends? To build a relationship? I think you've already made good progress in that direction. He's obviously interested. To get him into bed? I don't know about that. Maybe you should just be friends for now. I mean, is it going to kill you to wait a couple months?"

However, the look Lestat gave him left little doubt that Lestat, at least, was certain it would do just that.

Sebastien sighed and patted Lestat on the back. "I don't know. I don't know, but try and think things through before you do anything rash." He didn't know why he even bothered, it wasn't like Lestat was actually going to listen to him.

"Look, if all you want is a good time then go for it. He'll fall, Lestat. No one can resist you when you put your mind to it, but..." Sebastien trailed off.

"But what?"

"Listening to you talk about him just now it seemed like, like you really liked him, not just his looks," Sebastien tried to explain.

"Don't get all serious on me, Bas," Lestat laughed.

Sebastien shrugged. "I've gotta get to work. But really. Think about it."

Lestat watched him go, not letting the smile fall from his face until his friend had blended into the crowd and there was no chance he would turn around.

He thought about what Bastien had said, but he didn't know any other way to go about things.

It was Saturday and Louis was miserable.

Being only the first week of classes, there wasn't really that much studying to be done. Well, actually there were plenty of reading he could be doing, but no matter which book he opened he kept reading the same paragraphs over and over. He tried going over his notes and organizing them for next week's discussions, but he had just about as much luck with that as with the reading.

Five minutes into something and his thoughts would turn to Lestat. Scenes of him from the day before played through his mind over and over. He groaned and threw himself down on the bed. This is obsessive! Ridiculous! I just met him yesterday!

So when the phone rang that evening he was half hoping that Lestat had somehow gotten a hold of his number. It certainly seemed plausible. In fact, he'd almost convinced himself of that very thing by the time he reached the phone.

But no, it was only Evan. "Louis, it's Saturday night. Why aren't we out?" Well, anything had to be better than moping around in the house.

As it turned out, however, that wasn't in the least bit true.

"What is up with you tonight?"

They had gone for drinks and Louis was well on his way to being seriously sloshed with the vague idea in mind that since nothing else seemed to be working, maybe alcohol would take his mind off Lestat. Falling back on familiar habits.

No such luck, though. Every blond man who passed by just served to remind him all the more.

Evan repeated his question and Louis looked up, his large green eyes bloodshot but somehow still managing to be more alluring than should be humanly possible.

"I met this guy..." Louis began.

"And...he's straight?" Evan asked. That was the only logical reason he could think of, and even then he knew plenty of guys who would turn gay in a hot second if it meant a chance with Louis Pointe du Lac.

"No, I don't think that's an issue," Louis smiled wryly.

"He's not interested?"

"Quite the opposite, in fact."

"You're not interested?"

"If only that were the problem."

"Spit it out, then. What's the matter?" Evan was starting to get frustrated. Louis was doing this on purpose, avoiding the issue. "It sounds perfect to me. Why aren't you out with him tonight?"

Louis mumbled something too low for him to pick up and then downed another beer.

"I didn't hear you, what was that?" Evan asked.

Running his hand through his hair, Louis turned and glared at his friend. "He's my student, OK?" he sighed. "I can't...I can't have a relationship with a student. I would lose respect for myself." His mouth twisted as he said that. Not like he had a whole lot of self-respect to begin with.

He didn't say that out loud, though. Things were supposed to be going better, and they had been until Lestat had waltzed into his life the previous morning and turned everything on its side. And now look at me, he thought.

"And if any of the other students, or God forbid, the professor, found out...I... This is my first class, Ev, I don't want to ruin it, can't afford to. You know that. But I don't...I don't know what I want..." he finished, head down.

Evan had never seen Louis like this before, not over a guy anyway. Not over me. And maybe that was a measure of something, maybe not.

When it came to men, Louis was always cool, always calm. He was not one to get worked up over someone he just met, Evan had known him long enough to be certain of that fact. Whoever this guy was, there was no doubt that he'd made one hell of an impression on Louis.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't want you to say anything. Did you hear me ask your advice? You're the one who brought it up," Louis replied. "I'll deal with it."

"This isn't dealing with it," Evan snapped back, stating the all to obvious.

"I know..." Louis sighed again. "I'm going home."

"Call me," Evan called out as his friend left.

"I will."

Outside the wind was blowing and he knew it would only get worse the closer he got to his apartments. The tall buildings created a sort of wind tunnel along the streets that was often strong enough to throw one off balance.

Hugging himself tightly, he wished he'd thought to wear a jacket as his sweater felt like it wasn't even there. Whoever had started propagating the rumor that Los Angeles was sunny and warm year-round had obviously never been here.

He trudged down the street and through the Village. Thankfully it was only a few blocks to his apartment. However he'd only gotten a few steps before it started raining, and not just sprinkling either.

Perfect, just perfect. A perfectly shitty ending to a perfectly shitty day.

Lestat had not come up with a brilliant plan. Truth be told, he was quite disappointed in himself. And his last plan had worked so well, too!

Ah well, so much for plans! I'm Lestat, I don't need a plan! My natural charm is more than enough. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror and told himself he believed it.

Grabbing a random mix CD, he popped it into his Discman and then it was off to lecture and the beautiful Louis Pointe du Lac, although first he had to stop at Hollywood Video and return a DVD. Pain in the ass, as it meant he would have to walk all the way down to Veteran and then take the shuttle back up to school. He pressed play and started walking.

Once at the store, he dropped the DVD in the slot and turned down the street towards the shuttle stop. A new song started and he burst out laughing. Morrissey! How perfect, how utterly perfect, he thought.

"The more you ignore me, the closer I get. You're wasting your time..."

He attracted more than a few stares as he walked down the street singing, but a little attention never bothered Lestat. He just smiled and continued on his way.

And then he stopped. There, not ten feet in front of him, was Louis waiting for the shuttle. Wearing jeans again today, but that was fine. They looked good on him. Lestat would have liked something less bulky than the sweater and jacket he had on, but it was cold after all, so he let it slide.

Louis listened as Lestat sang along to his CD. He knew the song, but it had never had quite such a...personal meaning to it. Lestat had been singing to himself before - if you could call it that, he was loud enough to attract everyone's attention - but now that he'd noticed Louis, he was singing directly to him. Embarrassment warred with the pure delight he felt at seeing Lestat.

Lestat was standing right in front of him now. His voice lowered, he put his arms around Louis's neck and whispered the words in his ear, "When you sleep I will creep into your thoughts like a bad debt that you can't pay. Take the easy way and give in..."

He kissed Louis, now singing against his lips. Hips swaying, crotch to crotch, he felt Louis begin to respond to him. One arm moved up around Lestat's neck, fingers tangling in his hair, the other resting on the small of his back.

"Yeah, and let me in. Oh, let me in..."

Before he could continue, Louis came to his senses and angrily ripped the headphones out of Lestat's ears.

"I thought I told you not to do stuff like this!" he said angrily, trying to keep his voice down, but without much success.

People were darting glances their way, trying not to stare. Louis's face was burning with embarrassment and anger - mostly anger. He hated being so easily overwhelmed by Lestat and knew it was because his own determination not to let this happen was more than a little shaky.

"What the hell were you thinking!?" To his dismay, his voice was even louder this time.

Lestat blinked. God, he's beautiful when he's angry. Louis's eyes were flashing, his face flushed. Lestat looked around, everyone was suddenly very busy looking at something else.

"Calm down, Louis, you're making even more of a scene."

Louis continued to glare at him, but kept his mouth shut.

"Come on, who needs the shuttle anyway? I'll walk with you to class," Lestat gave him his most engaging smile. "We can talk on the way."

~ Chapter 5 ~

Lestat told himself he wasn't sorry. He hadn't set out to upset Louis, so how could it be his fault? Friday he'd thought his impetuousness might have hurt his chances and he'd been genuinely sorry, but today was another story. Louis had forgiven him quickly enough before, he would do so again. The boy is mine, Lestat smirked.

So Louis stalked off and Lestat followed him, running a little to catch up, grabbing the dark-haired man's sleeve as he did so. "I said we can talk on the way," he complained. "We can't very well talk if we're not walking together, now can we?"

No answer. "Look, I know you're angry," he started, but Louis just turned and glared at him.

"Fine, we'll talk. So listen to me, OK?" Louis said.

I shouldn't have turned to look at him, bad move, bad move, bad move...! Louis had been trying not to look at Lestat; looking at Lestat made his mind start wandering down a path he really didn't want to go right now. A path where he'd just kept his mouth shut and let Lestat keep kissing him. That kind of thinking was really not helpful in this situation.

He sighed and continued. "Lestat..." he said, savoring the feel of the name on his tongue.

A memory of himself coming home drunk and dripping wet on Saturday night, whispering that name as he'd jacked off in the shower. A dream later that same night - craning his neck back, their lips touching, strong hands on his hips pulling him back to meet Lestat's thrusts - waking up in a mess of sweat and twisted sheets, rolling over and moaning in frustration at the knowledge that it was only a dream. And now this morning's little episode...

Woah, woah, woah, I definitely do not need to go there right now. This is not productive thinking.

Clearing his throat, he turned to look at his companion, but then quickly looked away. Gah, now I can't even look at him without imagining him naked!

Keeping his eyes focused ahead, he went on, "Lestat, I...it's useless to pretend I'm not attracted to you."

Lestat smiled at that. "So, what's the problem then, again?" he asked, putting his arm around Louis's shoulders. "I'm," he paused, "...attracted...to you, too." His hand slipped down Louis's shirt and he ran his fingers across the smooth skin of his chest, up over the sharp line of his collarbone.

Louis's hand came up, hesitating for a minute, and grabbed Lestat's wrist - hard - and flung his arm away. He stopped walking and turned around, putting his hands firmly on Lestat's shoulders.

"You just don't seem to get it, do you? That was not an invitation to carry on. I will say this one more time, so listen carefully," he paused and took a deep breath. He was shaking by now, he wished he could say it was from anger, but the truth was that he was about two seconds away from giving in to Lestat right then and there. One more calming breath. Now.

"Teacher." He put his hand on his own chest. "Student." Hand on Lestat's chest. And last but not least, "Public. FUCKING. Place!!" he practically screamed, gesturing wildly at their surroundings.

Passers-by looked at them curiously and then hurriedly averted their eyes, telling themselves they hadn't just seen two men having what was obviously a lovers' tiff right here in the middle of the street. Nope, didn't see a thing. Gotta get to class, time for work. Nothing to see here.

Louis started walking again, trying to get his emotions under control. Now I'm the one making a scene, damn it, he thought. As if reading his mind, there came a shout in French from behind him.

"Now you're the one making a scene!!" Lestat was angry now, too, but Louis just kept walking.

Lestat followed in silence. Well, fine then. If Louis was going to give him the silent treatment, then he wasn't going to talk either. Damn it, why was this going so badly? In theory he understood Louis's reasons, but in practice... Well, that was a whole other story. He couldn't help himself! Louis didn't understand the effect he had on people, especially the effect he had on Lestat! Argh, it makes me want to tear my hair out!

For his part, Louis just tried to pretend that the most absolutely deadly gorgeous man he'd ever set eyes on wasn't walking behind him. Now they were on campus.

What time was it anyway? 1.15? Shit, I shouldn't have walked, he thought. No, I shouldn't have walked with Lestat. Well, at least Moore was close.

When he reached Ackerman Union, he took the steps two by two up the hill. About half way there he heard a voice, "Nice view." He put his hands up and pulled at his hair in mock frustration, then looked around. No one else around but the two of them. The walk had cooled him off, he wasn't angry anymore - not really. He was finding out quickly enough how hard it was to stay angry with Lestat. Well...maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a little fun with him...

Louis was taking the steps slower now, putting his hips into it. Lestat felt a stirring in his groin and he quickened his steps. But just as Louis reached the top, he turned around, giving him a mocking smile, and then started to run. Well, that was a challenge if he'd ever seen one, so of course Lestat immediately started after him.

Right in front of Moore he caught Louis around the waist and they went tumbling to the ground. They lay side by side on the grass, a little out of breath. Lestat was unsure what to expect, this playful attitude was a new (and exciting!) side of Louis.

Just when he was about to speak, he heard laughter next to him. Quiet at first, but then louder. He turned his head and it took his breath away. Black hair disheveled, eyes crinkled up with just the slightest bit of green peeking out from beneath his lashes, wide mouth open. He looked so...happy. So beautiful. So perfect.

I can't believe someone like this is interested in me. But as soon as the thought was formed, he pushed it away, told himself he hadn't just thought it. Of course he's interested in me, who wouldn't be? He repeated to himself like a mantra, locking away the doubts. It all happened so quickly, it had become so natural, that he almost didn't realize what he was doing. He almost made himself believe this was the real Lestat. He wasn't an actor for nothing.

Louis sighed and turned to look at the man next to him. He wanted him, yes, wanted him so bad he could taste it. The more time they spent together, the worse it got. He had to find some sort of balance somewhere, something to hang on to, or he was going to go insane. He looked into Lestat's eyes, the grey reflecting the blue of his shirt. Beautiful, that wasn't the right word, didn't do him justice. Breathtaking.

For a moment neither spoke. The air was so thick with tension, surely everyone else around could feel it, too. Finally Louis broke the silence. "That was fun," he smiled. "But we'd better get to class, all the seats are probably taken." Standing up, he brushed himself off and offered Lestat his hand.

Sure enough, the place was packed. There was no way they were going to find seats near the front, but Lestat pointed out two seats together in a row by themselves, the very back row. The professor was starting to lecture even as they sat down, so Louis quickly got out his notebook and flipped up the little desk attached to the arm of the chair. Lestat yawned and pulled out his GameBoy.

"Lestat!" Louis whispered, his tone more amused than truly upset.

"Fine, fine," Lestat sighed.

Thirty minutes later he'd had more than enough of listening to this stuffy professor. "Lestat, I can't concentrate on the lecture with your hand on my thigh." Well, that was nice to hear.

"Lestat, that certainly wasn't meant to imply you should put your hand there instead." No? Well, too bad.

"Lestat, stop that right now, I'm serious."

"But I'm bored," Lestat whined.

Louis sighed. "Then why did you come to class?"

"I wanted to see you. If this is the only time I can spend with you then I don't want to miss a second of it." Ooh, he wanted to kick himself for saying that, but it had just slipped out. He sounded pathetic.

Just as he was about to say something flippant, anything to try and cover his slip, he felt a piece of paper being pressed into his hand. A phone number.

"I didn't say we couldn't see each other outside of class," Louis whispered. Well, maybe I implied it, he thought, but he didn't say that out loud. "But when you're in class on Friday mornings, there's to be no hint of it." He hoped to God that he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. "You're an actor, you can do that much, right?"

Lestat just looked at him wide-eyed, not wanting to trust what he'd just heard. He felt like kissing Louis right then and there.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to concentrate here. If you can't behave then leave, hmm?"

"Oh, I'll behave...for now," Lestat leered. Louis just gave him a long-suffering sigh and turned his attention once more to the professor.

The week had gone well. They'd spent most of their time on campus together, gone to a movie in the Village one night (not that either of them paid much attention to the movie itself), and on Friday morning Lestat had kept his promise. In class he was well behaved (for Lestat), and not overly familiar with his teacher.

In fact, he hardly spoke to Louis at all, never even looked his way more than a couple times. Instead he spent his time acting as bored as possible, doodling in his notebook or gazing off into space. He seemed to be enjoying the whole thing, treating it as a game.

Louis, on the other hand, felt more self-conscious than ever before. Unlike Lestat, he was filled with guilt over the entire affair. His knees practically buckled in relief when the class was over and it became clear that, at least for now, no one was going to stand up and accuse him of anything.

Lestat filed out with the other students, they had agreed they wouldn't arrive or leave together. But Louis wasn't quite prepared for the loneliness he felt when the blond left without so much as a backward glance, and he definitely wasn't prepared for the surge of jealousy he felt to see him flirting and chatting with the other students.

Had it really been only last week that he'd first laid eyes on Lestat? It felt like they'd known each other forever, and yet it didn't. Sometimes, like now, Louis felt like he didn't know him at all. Like he'd been deceiving himself into thinking their feelings were mutual, that this was anything more than a game for Lestat. He felt ill. He would see him again this afternoon, but right now it seemed like that promise had happened in a dream.

Cut off your nose to spite your face, Lestat thought. Yeah, that pretty well described the morning. Lestat hadn't set out to spite Louis for insisting they pretend there was nothing between them, but that's sure what ended up happening. He could have at least been friendly; instead he'd snubbed him.

Surely no one else had noticed the flash of hurt in those green eyes as he'd left the room with his arm around the shoulders of the pretty brunette who sat in front of him, the jealousy when he'd asked for her phone number, saying they might get together to study later. No one had noticed except the one who'd caused it.

Waiting for Lestat in the hall was Bastien. Lestat bid his classmates goodbye, smiling and waving, always the charmer. He felt a twinge of guilt for his behavior, but tried to put it out of his mind. If you don't think about it, it never happened. Besides, this was all Louis's idea anyway.

"Bastien, my man, what's up?" he asked as Louis came through the door. Still a few other students hanging around.

"See you next Friday," Louis said before turning to walk down the opposite hallway.

"Yeah, see ya..." Lestat replied, and then said to Bastien, "So? What're you doing here?"

"Nothing much. I was bored, so I figured I'd come and see how you were doing. I haven't talked to you all week! Now you tell me what's up, I'm dying to know here."

The thought of spending the next couple hours talking about Louis brightened his mood immensely and Lestat gave his friend a huge grin.

4.30. Louis was supposed to meet Lestat in front of MacGowan Hall at 5 o'clock, but he was early. This was one of the few buildings on campus he'd never set foot in. He was trying to decide whether he should go in or not when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and found himself practically nose-to-nose with that skinny pink-haired boy he'd seen Lestat with this morning.

"You're Louis, right? Lookin' for Lestat?" Louis stepped back before answering.

"Um, yeah. And you're...?"

"My name's Sebastien, here I'll show you which room he's in. You can give him this, too, he forgot it earlier," he said as he handed Louis a cell phone.

The truth was Lestat had done no such thing. Sebastien had filched the phone in order to have an excuse to come up here and see Louis. Twice before he had seen him, once last Friday when Lestat watched from the coffeehouse as he rushed to class, and then once more this morning. Just glimpses, really.

But now he was hit with the full reality of everything that was Louis and he could see how Lestat had been so desperate to get his attention after seeing him that first time. And together with Lestat...what a pair they would make. They couldn't help but turn heads.

Sebastien sighed. He was decent enough looking himself, but this was another matter altogether. They were in a totally different league.

"So? Come on, I'll show you the room." He said.

Louis hung back, still unsure whether or not he should go in or wait outside. "...I don't want to get in the way..." He really did want to see Lestat on stage, though. Just thinking about it... "Oh, all right. Lead the way."

Sebastien stopped at a door not too far down the hall. "Well, here we are. Just go on inside and you can stand in the back and watch, they won't mind. I've done it before."

"Thanks, it was nice to meet you..." Louis said.

"Yeah, you, too. Bye." And with that he left.

Louis stood outside the door for a couple minutes before entering. He pulled open the door quietly, trying not to disturb the class.

Lestat was on the stage. He and a couple others were doing some sort of improvisational stuff, coming in on them in the middle of it like he was, Louis couldn't really tell what exactly was going on. But the truth was he didn't care, the sight of Lestat wiped everything else from his mind.

He truly looked angelic on the stage, the lights shining in his blond hair making it look like spun gold and one could almost imagine great white wings behind him. To Louis it was as if the other students didn't even exist, he saw only Lestat and his heart nearly stopped.

But all that aside, it was somewhat depressing that Lestat seemed so far away and unattainable. But then those grey eyes spotted him and his face lit up in a smile. There weren't words to describe it. And this time it wasn't Louis's heart that was affected. One smile and he was painfully hard. Thank God he was holding his bag in front of himself.

Louis closed his eyes and tried to think non-Lestat related thoughts. Ha! As if such a thing was possible. Instead his thoughts were a jumble of blond hair, grey eyes, kisses, and half-remembered dreams.

They hadn't actually slept together yet, although he'd felt dangerously close to giving in on several occasions. But it seemed that the act itself would make everything he was doing just that more real. As it was he was still trying to tell himself they were just hanging out and that there was no law against being friendly with one's students.

It was, admittedly, nothing more than an excuse. Whether or not they had sex, he was without a doubt emotionally involved with Lestat, and that was exactly the sort of thing he was not supposed to be doing. Not the most encouraging line of thought, but it had served to get his mind off the, erm, problem currently at hand.

And then the class was over and Lestat was hurtling himself towards Louis. "God, I've missed you!" he wrapped his arms around Louis, tangling his fingers in his soft, black hair and kissing him deeply. Louis was about to protest, but then a thought came to him - no one knows me here, I'm just Lestat's boyfriend...what can it hurt, just once? - and he returned the kiss, channeling his earlier frustration into passion.

"Ah...me, too," he moaned against Lestat's lips.

~ Chapter 6 ~

When they finally broke away it was to the sound of clapping and cheering. Louis looked around rather dazedly before noticing that his bag had slipped out of his hand - or rather he'd tossed it away in order to put his hands to better use. Running his fingers through the mass of blond hair, moving down to caress the taut muscles of Lestat's back, the firmness of his ass encased in tight black leather pants. Anyway, the bag now lay on the floor instead of where it was needed, which was, in Louis's opinion, right in front of his crotch.

Lestat, on the other hand, didn't seem to care whether anyone noticed his rather obvious state of arousal. Quite the opposite, in fact. As the remaining students (and a man in his forties who appeared to be the professor) smiled and clapped good-naturedly, he threw his arm out with a flourish and gave a bow.

"So are you going to introduce us or not?" asked one of them.

"But of course! This is the love of my life, Louis Pointe du Lac," Lestat declared, catching Louis around the waist. "And now it's time for us to be going."

And before Louis even had a chance to say a word, he was practically dragged out the door.

"What the hell was that all about?" Louis asked when they were alone.

Somewhat reluctantly, he extracted his hand from Lestat's and straightened his hair and clothes, which were decidedly mussed thanks to Lestat.

The blond turned to him with a look of disbelief. "Didn't you see them? They're like vultures! Predators! If I hadn't staked my claim..."

"Staked your claim?" Louis raised an eyebrow.

"Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, they had their eyes on you the minute you walked in. How could they not!? You're beautiful!"

Beautiful doesn't even begin to cover it, Lestat thought. Today his hair was down, falling in soft waves of black to his collar. Not wearing anything exciting, but his jeans were tight and hugged his legs like a second skin, and a black sweater, not tight but clingy, showed off the muscles in his chest and arms. He was quite well muscled, despite being a bit on the thin side.

Lestat could barely tear his eyes away when Louis spoke. "Don't be silly Lestat, you're over-reacting. Besides, I'm not beautiful. I'm not even handsome. Just average, I suppose."

Louis's eyes got a sort of far-away look. "Not...not like you, Lestat. You shine...you looked like an angel on the stage..." Then as if realizing what he'd just said, he ducked his head to the side and refused to meet Lestat's eyes.

I can't believe he really thinks he's average looking, Lestat thought, but he could tell Louis wasn't just being modest. He really had no idea the effect he had on others.

"But really, the love of your life?" Louis continued. "Don't you think that's a little over the top?"

Lestat laughed mockingly. "Don't be so serious." Time to change the subject, quickly, quickly...think of something! "How'd you find the classroom, anyway? I thought we were going to meet out here?"

A little stung by Lestat's laughter, but determined not to show it, Louis replied, "Hmm? Oh, I got up here a little early and was trying to decide whether I should go in and look for you or not when your friend Sebastien came up and introduced himself."

Remembering the phone, he dug around in his bag for a minute. "He said you forgot this earlier," he said, handing it to Lestat. "Anyway, he showed me where you were." He smiled shyly. "And I'm glad, too. Glad I got to see you on stage."

"Glad to be of service," Lestat replied. I'll have to thank Bastien for that... Anything that impresses Louis is a good thing.

"So..." Lestat said, trying to sound innocent, "I was thinking...I was thinking we could stop somewhere in the Village for dinner and then just go back to my place and hang out, what do you think?" The last bit just sort of tumbled out, not at all the smooth image he'd been going for. Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.

And Louis obliged. "Sure, that sounds cool."

Yes!! Already imagining them together in bed, Lestat started humming to himself as they walked.

Good God, Louis thought. Lestat was practically skipping. And the worst part was, Louis knew exactly why. He had agreed to Lestat's suggestion without thinking. Or rather, he hadn't let himself think about it. He was resigned. Whatever happens, happens. Although perhaps resigned was not the best word. That would imply he wasn't looking forward to it, which he most definitely was.

Lestat was dressed to kill today. The leather pants were topped off with a white dress shirt and a thin black tie. A combination of preppy and sexy that few people could pull off, Lestat was definitely one of them. Hell, he could pull off anything, Louis thought.

He didn't want to think about how far he'd fallen from his lofty goals. Ten weeks? He'd barely even lasted one. He felt like he was being swept along on a tide that was out of his control, but although he recognized what was happening, he was loath to stop it.

Somehow they managed to make it through dinner and to Lestat's door without incident. Well, there had been several rather drawn out kisses on the way, but Louis, at least, was still thinking somewhat straight. Straight enough to remember they were still in public anyway.

Lestat, as was to be expected, didn't care whether they had an audience or not. Even now they weren't alone. As Lestat fumbled for his key, Louis was positive he saw neighbors peeking out from behind their curtains to watch the show. He was beginning to care less and less, though. Damn it, Lestat, what's the problem with the damn key!?

Louis's back was pressed up against the door; one leather encased thigh between his legs, Lestat's free hand caressing his ass. His own hands were busy exploring the firm muscles of Lestat's chest and stomach, stopping to play with his nipples every now and again. Breaking off their kiss, he brought his mouth up to Lestat's ear.

"Stat," he whispered, his voice raw with passion, "Get the damn door open now or I'm going to break it down my-"

Before he could finish his sentence the lock finally clicked and the door swung inwards, sending the two of them tumbling onto the floor. Louis jumped up quickly, pushing Lestat out of the way. With a glare to any neighbors who might still be watching (oh, why give them the benefit of the doubt? He could clearly see the occupants of the apartment across the courtyard trying to look inconspicuous as they peered out their windows), he slammed the door and locked it.

Now, where were we? Right. "I'm sure there's gotta be somewhere more comfortable than the foyer where we can...continue where we left off?"

Lestat watched as Louis pulled his sweater over his head and stepped out of his shoes. His chest felt tight, like he couldn't breathe. I'm nervous..., he thought wonderingly.

It seemed hard to imagine that not even two weeks ago he had thought of Louis as nothing more than a pretty face, something he had to have at any cost. Now he had to have him, yes, but it was no longer just a matter of sex.

The love of my life. He'd said it flippantly, and when questioned about it, he had run the other way, his mocking laughter directed more at himself for having the gall to fall for someone like this - someone who'd only leave if he really knew me - than at Louis for asking.

But in true Lestat fashion, he didn't let himself dwell on these thoughts. He pushed them down inside himself, sealed them off. If you don't think about it, it never happened. Goes for thoughts as well. If you don't think about it, you never felt that way. The end.

It all happened so quickly that he himself was barely aware of what he did. In the next moment he was the old smiling, charming Lestat that everyone loved. And if Louis thought he'd seen a flicker of doubt across his face, there was no sign of it when he finished taking off his sweater. This was no time to dwell on something he wasn't even sure he'd seen.

Lestat followed Louis's example and took off his boots, kicking them off to the side of the room. He led the way to the bedroom and flipped on the light switch. Louis had to stifle a giggle; there was enough makeup, clothes, and jewelry strewn around the room for a dozen teenage girls.

Ugh, Lestat blanched. He'd forgotten how many outfits he'd tried on this morning before settling on what seemed (at least from the looks Louis had been giving him) to be the perfect one.

"Sorry about the mess. What can I say? I love clothes," he smiled, picking up an armload of tight pants and brightly colored shirts and throwing them in a heap on the closet floor.

Louis came up behind him, embracing him, and whispered in his ear while undoing his tie, "You'd look good in anything," his voice suddenly husky, "or nothing."

Lestat turned around so they were facing each other. "Likewise." Louis unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders. Without a shirt Lestat's leather pants were practically illegal, they rode so low.

Louis suddenly found himself on the bed, Lestat on top of him, his long fingers tangled in his ebony hair. They kissed, their tongues exploring each other's mouths. Then Lestat was moving lower, kissing his neck, his chest. Teasing his nipples with his lips and teeth and tongue until they were hard, while running his hands over the muscles of Louis's stomach and down to the waistband of his jeans.

His mouth soon followed, trailing kisses down to his navel. Putting his mouth to Louis's crotch, Lestat could feel the heat of his cock through the fabric of his jeans. "These look to be a bit...confining, don't you think?"

"Please..." Louis moaned, his hips jerking upwards.

His nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons, then pulled down the jeans - briefs and all - and Louis was naked before him, in all his glory. Louis blushed as Lestat's eyes roamed over his body, taking in the taut muscles of his thighs before stopping to rest on his leaking cock.

"What're you staring at?"

"Just admiring the view." Lestat smiled. Getting up and going over to the nightstand, he took a small jar of Vaseline out of the drawer and tossed it on the bed. He then proceeded to do a little strip show, turning around and wiggling his ass as he slid out of his pants.

Once he was fully naked, he turned back to Louis, "And you? Do you like the view?"

"Very much so." Louis laughed. How could I not? He thought.

Lestat was a little heavier than he, but still had the same general lean-but-muscled physique. His chest was smooth, but a trail of light blond hair ran down from his navel. Louis smiled and grabbed Lestat's arm, pulling him back down on top of himself and kissing him once more.

Lestat broke off the kiss and grabbed the Vaseline. Bringing his head down between Louis's thighs, he gave a few teasing licks to his cock. Sucking on the head, sticking his tongue between the cleft, placing kisses down its length until he reached his balls, taking one then the other in his mouth and sucking playfully on them.

Louis moaned, "God, you're torturing me!"

When he reached the tight opening between Louis's cheeks, he stuck his tongue in, rimming it. Then a dab of Vaseline and in went his index finger. Louis clenched his muscles and made a small noise of pleasure as Lestat added a second finger, then a third, massaging and stretching him.

"Stat, please!"

"Please what?" Lestat asked teasingly.

"I want you inside me," Louis panted. "Now!"

With that, Lestat turned him over, kissing his ass as he spread Louis's thighs apart. He eased up over him and prepared himself for entry.

"I said now, damn it!" Louis turned his head as far as he could, his green eyes blazing with lust and frustration. Then he pushed his hips back, impaling himself on Lestat's cock.

So much for taking it slowly, Lestat thought. Louis's hands tightened on the sheets as he screamed out in pain and pleasure. Soon they were moving rhythmically and Lestat leaned forward, bringing his hand down to grab Louis's cock and stroking it in time with his own thrusts.

"Louis..."

"Stat...love you..."

The sound of Louis voice as he whispered those words was enough to send Lestat over the edge and he came, shuddering and gasping as his heart tried to pound its way out of his chest. He was still trembling with the after-effects when Louis came a few minutes later.

Exhausted, they collapsed together on the bed.

Louis woke up disoriented. Where am I...? He looked at the sleeping form in the bed next to him. Lestat looked like a Renaissance painting of an angel, his gold hair a halo around his face, a sheet twisted about his hips, a peaceful expression on his face. Beautiful. He looked so...young. So innocent.

This was definitely not the way one was supposed to feel about one's students.

Fuck.

And how many times had they made love last night? Five? Six? Not ten minutes had passed after their first go-round before they were at it again, this time Louis taking the lead. And so it had gone the whole night.

This was most certainly not included on the list of acceptable activities with one's students.

Damn.

"Stat...love you..."

How many times had he cried that little phrase out? Once was once too many and it had surely been more than once.

Things not on the list of things to say to one's students. This would be number one.

Shit. Damn. Fuck.

Running away was not going to make the problem any better, but he sure as hell couldn't think of a better plan.

~ Chapter 7 ~

Lestat rolled over and opened his eyes, fully expecting to see Louis by his side. Instead there was just an empty space. He ignored the panicked voice in the back of his head, telling himself that there must be a logical explanation. Louis was in the bathroom, taking a shower, making breakfast, anything as long as he was still here somewhere. As it turned out, both he and the little voice were right.

He sat up and called out. "Louis?" There. He heard a sound from the other room. See, he must just be eating and didn't want to bother me.

Getting up, Lestat wandered out to the front room, not bothering to get dressed. There he found Louis, fully clothed, book bag in hand, putting his shoes on, and looking an awful lot like someone who was trying to sneak out of the room before anyone noticed.

"Where are you going?" Lestat asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"Home." Louis wasn't meeting his eyes, wasn't even looking at him. He was just concentrating on his damn shoes.

"Why? It's the weekend, you said you didn't have anything planned this weekend." The panicky voice was trying to take over, but he willed himself to remain calm...or at least not panicked. You do not want to sound like some newly deflowered virgin the morning after.

Finished with his shoes, Louis headed for the door without pausing. He'd made his decision and couldn't afford to look back. He knew what he had to do, but his heart ached thinking about it. "It's over, Lestat." God, how it hurt to say those words. "I had fun."

Determined not to let him know how much that hurt, Lestat's only other option was to lash out. "You what!? You had your fun and you're just gonna leave!?"

Louis stopped, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Suddenly the pain was supplanted by anger, towards Lestat and towards himself. He was angry with Lestat for making him feel pressured into this relationship despite his better judgment and with himself for giving in so easily. Angry with Lestat for failing to understand his position and with himself for expecting Lestat to understand something when he'd never mentioned how much this meant to him and why he was taking the job so seriously. Angry at fate that they hadn't met under different circumstances.

He hated himself for hurting Lestat, for the choice he was making, for pretending last night - hell, this whole last week - meant nothing to him. The list went on and on.

He just let the anger and frustration well up, let it cover the pain, drown out the tears before they ever made it to his eyes. It was better that way. He could handle it that way.

Eyes blazing with green fire, he turned to Lestat and let it all pour forth. "I can do whatever I want! Where I go and what I do is none of your business!"

If he hadn't been so angry, he would have noticed Lestat's mask slip a little bit. If he hadn't turned back towards the door just then, he would have noticed the way his grey eyes clouded with despair and betrayal, the way for just a split second, he looked like nothing more than a lost, hurt little boy. If he had, maybe things would have been different.

But he didn't see, and the mask came back up before Lestat even realized it had slipped. Ever the actor, he concealed his true feelings even from himself. He let his own anger override everything else, it was the only defense he had left.

"Fuck you, then! I don't need you!" And then an idea came to him, a way he could hurt Louis as much as Louis had hurt him. He pushed his hair back from his face as if he couldn't care less. "I was only looking for an easy A. I figured if I was sleeping with the TA, I wouldn't have to do any work."

Louis turned around, a look of disbelief on his face. "You're lying. You can't tell me that was all an act..." But he didn't believe what he was saying. He didn't see himself as necessarily very interesting or attractive and Lestat's words made a sick kind of sense. It explained everything perfectly.

Lestat just smirked. "I'm an actor, remember? Never trust an actor."

"You bastard..." The humiliation had almost overcome the anger for a minute, but now it was back in full force. "You lying little fuck. Well you're not gonna get your easy A now, I can guarantee that!"

"Oh, I don't know about that. If I were you, I'd be sure you gave me a passing grade. Unless you want me to tell the professor, or maybe some of the other students, just what went on here last night? I might even go to the dean with a tale of sexual harassment...I think I could pull it off, don't you?"

Louis had never hated anyone as much as he hated Lestat that instant. His book bag fell to the floor as he crossed the room in a couple steps. Before Lestat even had a chance to realize what was going on, Louis's hands were around his neck, throttling him.

"You fucking bastard...!" Louis hissed.

Lestat tried to pry the hands away from his throat, but Louis was stronger than he looked. When it became clear he'd have no luck that way, he kicked his erstwhile lover in the shins, and then proceeded to punch him in the eye. Louis let go of his neck and put his hand up to his cheekbone, the area around his eye was already beginning to swell.

He was so absorbed in assessing the damage, he didn't even see the next swing coming. He doubled over, the wind knocked out of him by Lestat's fist to his gut. "Shit..."

That did it. Still bent over, he tackled Lestat, catching him off guard. Now he was on top of him on the floor. Louis paused for a minute with regret for the damage he was going to do to this beautiful face. It still had a power over him, even now, but his rage was greater. He took aim with his fist, his one concession being to stay well away from Lestat's nose.

The punch caught Lestat on his lower jaw, causing him to bite the side of his cheek. Louis was straddling him and the irony of their position was not lost on Lestat. He was fully aroused now, his state of undress leaving him totally exposed. He was about to try for another swing at Louis when he noticed the glazed look in those green eyes, now darkened with lust. Louis bent over him and through the fabric of his jeans, Lestat could feel the hard heat of an arousal that matched his own.

Louis grabbed his hair and bent down to kiss him. His mouth was rough, demanding, bruising. Then he seemed to remember their situation and pulled away as if disgusted with himself. Standing up, he walked back over to the door and picked up his bag. Quietly and without inflection, he said, "I don't ever want to see you again."

Lestat couldn't resist it. His face a perfect mask, he replied, "See you Friday."

Grabbing the closest object, an ashtray on the nearby table, Louis flung it in Lestat's direction and was, much to his own dismay, relieved when it missed.

Then he was out the door without another word. Lestat jumped up and stormed right after him, mindless of the fact that he was still totally naked (and sporting a rather large erection to boot).

"You can't do that to me!" he proceeded to stand on the stoop, screaming a long string of obscenities in French at Louis's retreating form.

When finally Louis was no longer visible, Lestat turned around to go back in the apartment, only to see his neighbors peeking out from behind their curtains, fascinated by the whole affair. Picking up the newspaper from the ground, he turned his fury on them, flinging it at their window. "What the hell are you looking at!?"

~ Chapter 8 ~

Lestat stood for a moment with his back pressed up against the door, hands spread out on each side to keep him up. I will not start crying. I will not start crying. He took a deep breath and felt it catch in his throat. His knees buckled and he slid down the door into a crouching position, his arms wrapped around his knees and his head bowed down on his arms, and the sobs just racked his body.

He didn't know how long he stayed there by the door. It could have been an hour, but it could just as easily have been five minutes. He had cried until it felt like there were no tears left in his body and now he was tired and his head ached.

Sighing, he leaned his head back against the door. Fine. You've cried, you've yelled, you've made a big scene. Now get over it. It's not like this kind of thing hasn't happened before. You should be used to it by now. Just don't think about it. If you don't think about it, it never happened.

But it hasn't happened like this before. Last night, or rather this morning, when he had just lain there with Louis next to him, he had felt...complete. Like he had found something precious. Looking back on it now he told himself that it was a stupid, stupid, stupid way to feel. It was only sex. Louis was just some guy. There was nothing more to it than that. Forget about it. Move on.

He took a deep breath and stood up. First things first. He made a beeline for the fridge and grabbed a beer, downing it in the time it took to reach the bathroom.

On his way, he stopped at the stereo, popped in a random CD, and cranked it all the way up. He didn't want to think right now, better that the music drown out any thoughts.

He avoided the mirror as he passed it, not wanting to see how he looked now. He hated seeing his face after a bout of crying. Despised the look of...weakness.

So he got in the shower, turning the hot water up so high it was almost scalding, and just stood there letting the spray wash over him. Wash everything away. He all of a sudden remembered that old song, how did it go? "I'm gonna wash that man right outta my hair..." He started laughing so hard he almost slipped and fell. The water ran into his open mouth, making him cough and sputter, but he couldn't stop laughing. How pathetic. That's exactly what I'm trying to do. Wash him away. The scent, the feel, the taste, the memories. Bye-bye Louis, down the drain you go. As if.

"Stat...love you..."

Stupid lies. Those words don't mean anything. In the middle of a good fuck anyone'll say that. I love fucking you. I love being fucked by you. Even he'd said those words. "I love you, Lestat." And what a joke that was.

He was crying again, the tears mixing with the water and running down his cheeks. They burned like acid and he wondered why, with all the tears he'd cried, they hadn't left permanent tracks on his face. Memory of a little blond boy. Different shower, same scalding water, same acid tears.

The music was so loud the neighbors were probably about to call the cops, so why was he still thinking!? Stop thinking, damn it! He slammed the side of his fist into the tiles so hard that the jolt ran all the way up his arm to his shoulder. He opened his mouth in pain and frustration and anger, but the scream went unheard, drowned out by the music.

Louis's anger had carried him about halfway from Lestat's apartment to his own before he started to slow his pace. By the time he reached his front door all he could think about was turning around and heading straight back to Lestat.

Once inside, he kicked off his shoes, tossed his bag on the couch, and proceeded to the bedroom, where he flopped face down on the bed.

Things had really not gone well this morning. Ha! That's an understatement, if I ever heard one.

He needed to think things through. Right now he didn't know what to think about anything... In the heat of the moment Lestat's words had made a sick sort of sense and he'd been so certain they were true. But now that he'd calmed down a little he realized the whole "I only went after with you to get a good grade" bit rang a little hollow. More than likely it was nothing more than an act made up on the fly to save face.

Which left the burden of being an asshole firmly on his shoulders. For a few blessed moments there he hadn't felt nearly so bad, had almost felt justified in leaving. But it was a lie and he knew it.

The problem was...well, there were several problems, but the biggest problem was that it was entirely possible Lestat could convince himself that what he'd said was true. They may not have known each other for long, but Louis had spent a great deal of that time just watching Lestat.

It wasn't something most people would notice, indeed most people probably didn't. Most people probably thought that there was nothing more to Lestat than what they saw: a hyper, flirtatious, somewhat air headed pretty-boy without a care in the world. Admittedly it was quite a good act, and no doubt a great deal of it was based on the real Lestat, but an act it was, that much he was sure of.

The Lestat Lioncourt Show was a world where everything was always fine and dandy and you never looked back.

Memory of the other day at lunch, reading the paper. Yet another story about yet another priest who molested a bunch of little boys. Lestat looks over at the headline. "Those guys are a bunch of idiots. Why do they want to bring it all up now? Is money gonna make everything better somehow? They should just forget about it. If you don't think about it, it never happened." For a couple of seconds his face is totally open, and the pain and hurt and hatred in his eyes sears into Louis's brain. Then the mask is back in place and Lestat is chattering on about something totally different.

Fuck that. What kind of twisted logic was that anyway? What kind of twisted shit did you become if you just held all that inside that way? Not that he knew exactly what "all that" was exactly...but he had an idea.

And what kind of twisted shit did that make him then? He knew what he was doing would hurt Lestat and he went ahead and did it anyway. He let himself be swept along by the force of Lestat's personality so that he didn't have to make any decisions, and then had the gall to be angry with Lestat for it?

He was the one to blame here and he knew it. At the risk of sounding like some trashy romance novel - which he felt his life suddenly resembled at this moment - he had led Lestat on and then run away. In his selfishness he had chosen to protect himself instead of the one he loved. Loved? He thought about it. Yeah, love. Stupid to feel that way about someone he barely knew, but there it was.

He had done so knowing full well that despite appearances to the contrary, Lestat was not...emotionally stable.

And now even if Lestat hadn't just been using him, even if Lestat had liked - loved - cared about him in some measure, even if all that were true last night, it was over now. Lestat would not think about Louis and Louis would never have happened. He would get what he wanted, he would go back to being just the teacher and Lestat would be just another student. Wasn't that what all this was about?

That is what you wanted, right?

He rolled over on his back and brushed his hair out of his face. Self-loathing pressed down on him like a great weight and tears began to well out from the corners of his eyes.

Wiping them away, he sat up quickly. It was no use lying here all day and crying over it.

He went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Perfect. There on the main shelf sat a whole unopened 12-pack of beer. Opening the cupboards, he managed to find a few other bottles, too. Always prepared. Never know when you might need to drink yourself senseless.

Gathering them all up, he took them back to the bedroom and situated them in a circle around him on the bed. He opened a beer and gulped it down in a couple seconds, tossing the empty can at the wastebasket in the corner. It bounced off the rim and rattled onto the floor. He was already finished with his second can when the first came to rest by the foot of the bed.

The plan was simple - to get himself so sloshed that he passed out and didn't have to think about Lestat - or anything - anymore.

Once out of the shower Lestat had another beer and then set about the task of getting dressed. While he was scrounging around in the closet for the perfect outfit (something that said "I'm hot, sexy, and didn't just get dumped this morning like a pathetic loser") he rang up Bastien to see if he had any plans for the night.

"Hey, Bas, what's up?" Ooh, low-riding black leather pants. Perfect.

"Lestat. I didn't expect to hear from you this weekend. I figured you two'd be too busy fu..."

"I don't want to talk about it, OK?" he snapped. He was being very careful to not think about the events of this morning or last night or anything since school began that might remind him of Louis, and damned if he was going to let Bastien's nosiness undo all that. OK, not nosiness. It was just a casual question. But still.

Sebastien was a bit taken aback at his friend's tone, but knew better than ask any questions when Lestat was in that sort of mood. "Well, I'm having a party over here tonight if you wanna come. I'm just trying to clean the place up right now."

"I'll be over in..." Ah, there's a good shirt. "Um, about an hour or so."

"An hour!? But the party's not until 9..." What time was it anyway? Lestat looked around for a clock and finally found one under a pile of underwear. 3 o'clock? Huh.

"I'll help you clean," he lied, hanging up before Bastien could protest.

He slid into the leather pants and grabbed the shirt off its hanger. It was a soft shade of blue that worked well with his eyes (which was why he'd bought it, of course). Nothing special except the color, really it was nothing more than an overpriced tight cotton t-shirt. It fit him like a second skin and he gave thanks, as he always did, that he had a naturally high metabolism, otherwise he might actually have to watch what he ate.

As much as he was liking the outfit, though, it was mid-October and even in California the weather was pretty chilly. Nothing like France, but it wasn't t-shirt weather either.

A little more shuffling of hangers produced the desired article. A black silk dress shirt. He tucked it in, leaving all but the bottom few buttons undone to show off the blue shirt. Perfect. He stopped to admire himself once more.

Now to accessorize. Under all the junk on his dresser, he managed to find a box of earrings and a thin silver chain. He put small silver hoops in all six holes in one ear and a silver stud with some sort of light blue stone in the other. Next came the necklace and a couple of silver rings on each hand. His hair he tied back, leaving several loose locks in the front. As a final touch he added a bit of mascara and some blue eyeliner.

"Not bad, not bad at all." Definitely not an afternoon look, but what the hell.

Oh, shoes. Shoes, shoes, shoes. He finally found a pair of black boots that matched well and pulled them on. He grabbed the rest of the beer cans from the fridge and tossed them in a bag. A present for Bastien.

He walked the few blocks to Bastien's apartment. There was no question of driving. First of all, parking in Westwood was wretched and second, his only means of transportation was a motorcycle and he was taking no chances of messing up his look tonight. Or this afternoon. Whenever the hell it was, he wasn't taking the damn bike.

Arriving at his friend's apartment, he found the door unlocked and let himself in. "Bastien, I'm here!" God, the place was a dump. "I thought you were cleaning, not making things worse?"

"I'm in the bathroom! I haven't gotten out there yet." He put the beer in the fridge and followed Sebastien's voice back to the bathroom.

"I can see that, are you sure you're going to have the place decent in time?"

Lestat nearly burst out laughing at the sight that met him in the hall. Sebastien's bright pink hair was sticking up all over the place, held back from his face with one of those stretchy headbands. On his hands were plastic gloves and he was holding a mop.

"You'll help me out, won't you?" Sebastien asked hopefully, but his face dropped when he saw Lestat's outfit. No, he was obviously going to have to go this one on his own. "Go put on some music or something," he sighed.

"I brought beer for the party, though." Lestat tried to cheer him up. "Who all's coming?"

He only halfway listened to the answer as he fiddled around with the stereo. A Madonna disc was already inside, so he hit play figuring that would do well enough and was easier than searching through the stacks of CDs on the floor. Hadn't they ever heard of CDs racks? Not that he was one to talk.

His stomach growled and he realized he hadn't eaten anything all day. He went back in the kitchen and looked around. "I thought there was supposed to be a party, where's the food?"

"That's where Kevin's gone, we didn't have a thing," came Bastien's response.

"Ah, I thought he'd just run off to escape cleaning."

Well, so much for lunch. Plopping himself down on the couch, he grabbed a copy of Backstage West off the table and began flipping through, seeing if there were any interesting roles to try out for.

He hadn't really been paying attention to the music, but now he looked up from the magazine and stared at the stereo as "Oh Father" began to play. Stupid song. He hated it.

He got up and walked over, just standing in front of the CD player, his hands bunched up in fists at his sides. He wanted to turn it off, make the song stop, but he couldn't seem to make his arms obey him.

He finally raised his hand to stop the CD, but he wasn't quite in time before the final verse began to play, all preachiness and forgiveness. What the fuck do you know about it? He pressed the eject button so hard it probably did permanent damage, but he didn't care. He grabbed the disc out of the tray and crushed it in his hand, breaking it in half.

"Hey, why'd you stop it? I like that song!" Sebastien came out of the bathroom, totally unprepared for the site that met his eyes.

Lestat was visibly trembling, a look of pure hatred on his face. At his feet were two halves of the piece of plastic formerly known as Sebastien's favorite Madonna album. His hand was dripping blood from where shards of the CD had cut him.

Before Sebastien could say a word, Lestat was out the door, slamming it behind him as he left.

~ Chapter 9 ~

The days and then the weeks passed in a daze. He went to class, he studied, he graded papers. He tried to make life go back to the way it had been pre-Lestat. Hard to believe that before this quarter he'd never known the man existed. Lestat was an experience that had changed his life and he was lying to himself to think he could go back now. Lying and he knew it, but he kept on. Really, there was no other choice.

Decisions had been made; actions had been taken. The only thing left to do now was dull the pain. During the day he drank just enough to take the edge off, not so much that it kept him from functioning. He had it down; this was nothing new. The feeling of numbness, it was actually...nostalgic in a way.

It took him back, back to a time when it seemed as if nothing would ever be bright or happy or golden again.

After four years of limited contact with his family, Louis had returned home the summer after graduation. The little brother who'd idolized him was grown into a young man of strong convictions. After high school, Paul would join the priesthood. It was already decided.

Louis had been hoping that maybe Paul would come out to California for college, maybe even choose his brother's alma mater. Instead he would be sent off wherever it was they turned impressionable young boys into priests. He hadn't bothered to find out.

He had spent the days trying to recapture the camaraderie they'd always had despite the five-year age difference, but Paul seemed unable to speak of anything but religion. Louis had realized belatedly that no matter what was between him and their parents, he should have made more effort to keep in touch with the little brother he had loved so much.

One night, the family had gone out for dinner and on the way home Paul had begged to drive with him. Paul who was everything good and pure that he would never be. Paul, whose last words to Louis had been to exhort him to turn away from his life of sin. Paul, who somewhere in the ten blocks between the restaurant and their house, found out whether the God he loved so much really did exist or not.

It was a drunk driver. Cliche. A truck ran a red light and slammed straight into the passenger side of Louis's car. Paul died instantly; Louis was unharmed save for a few scratches. Their parents didn't blame him outright, but the fact that such a saint had died, while a 'Goddamned queer', to quote his father, lived was now the subtext of every conversation, every look. He didn't blame them in the least, how could he when he felt the same way? Paul had been everyone's favorite, he had been the sun that his and everyone else's world revolved around, and now he was gone.

Despite the fact that it was only July, he had returned to school immediately following the funeral. The first years of graduate school were lost in an amber haze. When holidays came around, he didn't go home and no one asked him to.

It had taken a long time, but eventually he learned to give up his guilt and get on with his life. He learned to accept that that's just how life was sometimes. He never did go back to New Orleans, though.

And so the drinking had stopped. But now he'd fallen back into old habits, old ruts. His sun was gone again, and he was once more trying to drown himself to stop the pain of being frozen without its warmth.

He was also waxing poetic about it - even if it was only in his own head - something which alcohol tended to bring out in him.

He never saw Lestat in lecture, which was no surprise. He knew Lestat had only been coming because of him, so he didn't expect to see him, but he kept looking anyway, wanting to catch a glimpse. Like an addict, he needed a fix.

He couldn't sleep that first Thursday night, alternately fearing and hoping that Lestat would be in class the next morning. When he wasn't, there was no relief, only a crushing disappointment. He passed around the roll sheet and marked Lestat as present.

Another Friday came and went and he hated himself as he marked Lestat in again.

Then it was Wednesday of fifth week and midterms. While the students bent their heads over their bluebooks, scribbling out their essays, the TAs walked up and down the aisles of the lecture hall to make sure no one was cheating. It was only after he'd been all the way up one side of the room that Louis realized he hadn't even been paying attention, instead he was unconsciously searching for Lestat.

Halfway down the other side, he spotted him. Lestat was looking up and when their eyes locked it was like an electrical current running the length of the room. Lestat smiled, but it wasn't the cheerful grin he'd become used to. No, this was a sly, mocking smile, but there was a strange look in his eye, and Louis couldn't tell at which of them that mockery was directed.

Tearing his gaze away, he made his way back up to the front. When he reached the stage, he turned around and looked back towards Lestat, but that steely grey gaze was no longer directed his way, instead he seemed to be concentrating on writing his essay.

When the hour was up, everyone plodded up to the front of the room and handed their bluebooks to their respective TAs. Student after student passed by, and then Lestat was standing in front of him. His hand lingered on Louis's as he turned in his paper and the look he gave seemed to be undressing him with his eyes. Then with a smirk, he was out the door.

Except for the other TAs, the room was empty. With a vague "see ya" in their direction, Louis made his way out to the patio and sat down at one of the tables. Lestat's bluebook lay on the top of the stack, staring up at him. He opened it slowly, but then quickly shut it again, his eyes darting around to make sure no one had seen him.

He didn't need to open it a second time; there had been no essay only a short sentence written in French. "I'm expecting an A."

Louis collapsed back against his chair and put his hand over his eyes. God, could things get any worse?

That afternoon he wandered around campus aimlessly. Well, not so aimlessly, really, but he didn't realize it until he found himself standing outside of MacGowan Hall at a little before 5pm. Oh shit.

He wanted to leave right then, but something compelled him to stay. Like an addict, indeed. No matter that he'd just seen Lestat a few hours earlier. No matter that rather than making him feel better, it had ripped him up that much more. He still needed to see him.

So he stayed where he was and waited and soon enough his patience was rewarded. A group of student emerged, laughing and talking, and who was at the center? Who else?

Lestat was hanging on a pretty blonde girl, his charm cranked up to 110%. It seemed to Louis, who watched with a strange, detached sort of horror, that Lestat was wound up too tight, that he was on the edge of...something. Too bright, a star on the verge of collapse. But no one else seemed to notice. To them he was the same old Lestat.

He prayed that he wouldn't be seen. He prayed that he would be seen. He prayed stupid, selfish, jealous prayers that the current object of Lestat's attention would be struck by lightning or spontaneously combust.

But they were too absorbed in themselves to notice him. A small sigh escaped his lips before he could stop it. As they walked away, he felt like all the light went with them and he was left standing in the dark. He knew he should walk the other way, but instead he followed after them.

Lestat said something to the girl, too low for Louis to hear, but he heard her answer. "Lestat!" Her voice was playfully shocked. "What about that guy who was with you before? I thought you said he was the love of your life?"

Lestat laughed, but his words seemed calculated to bring the maximum amount of pain possible, and Louis wondered whether maybe he'd been noticed after all. "That's so over with, honey." He laughed again. "You can be the love of my life tonight."

He winked, she giggled, and Louis seethed in the darkness, feeling like he was about to be sick.

Unable to stand it anymore, he turned and fled. Not running, but walking quickly, trying to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. He told himself he had no right to be hurt by those words, no right to be jealous. He was the one who'd left.

That didn't make it any easier, though.

At home that night, he sat down at his desk, the stack of essays and his grade book in front of him. To the side was dinner, which tonight consisted of chips and a bottle of vodka. Not exactly a balanced meal, but his kitchen was decidedly lacking in food and he didn't feel like going out anywhere.

He looked down at the pile of identical blue essay books, Lestat's still on top. He tried to imagine what had been going through Lestat's head when he wrote those words, but his mind was a blank. Pulling the grade book towards him, he went down the list until he found his name. Lestat Lioncourt...90/100. A.

Pouring himself a glass of vodka (Why even bother with the glass, you know you're just going to drink the whole thing anyway), he marked the same score on the essay and put it aside. The worst thing was, he didn't even know why he was doing this. He didn't really fear that Lestat would go telling tales, although he couldn't completely discount those threats. And hadn't his reason for leaving Lestat been that it wasn't proper? And wasn't this much worse than anything he'd been doing before?

But he was so worn down that he didn't even care anymore. Just go with the flow. Anything else was too much effort. It was hard to remember why it had mattered so much.

He took a drink, downing half the glass. It burned at first, but then it passed and he was left with a pleasant feeling of warmth. He graded the other essays with his mind only half on the task at hand. Thankfully this kind of work didn't require much effort. It's not like these kids cared what they were writing anyway, half the time they didn't even make any sense. It was his responsibility to get them through the class, but it was really hard to care right now. It was hard to care about anything.

The phone rang and he let the machine pick up. "Louis?" It was Evan. He had already left five messages in the past week, all of which had been deleted immediately.

"Louis, listen. I know you're probably there right now hearing this. I'm worried about you, man, everyone's wondering what's up. They may not know, but I do. You forget I've known you ever since you were a freshman. And I may not know the cause, but I know what's going on and I'm not gonna sit by and watch as you try and fucking drink yourself to death again!"

Louis tuned him out. He knew he should call Evan back. He knew he should be thankful he had friends who cared about him. He knew he should, but it was hard to care.

How did things get to this point? Another swallow and time to refill the glass. How did this become my life?

This wasn't supposed to happen. How did I let myself come to this point?

"Pathetic...I'm pathetic. A complete and total loser."

He took one last drink. He had finally reached the desired state. Peeling off his clothes, he made his way to the bedroom and fell back onto the bed. This is what drinking got him - a few hours of precious nothingness, a night without any dreams or memories.

He closed his eyes and slipped into the void of sleep. Numb.

~ Chapter 10 ~

He was about three blocks away when he realized his mistake. He shouldn't have smashed the CD, shouldn't have run out the door practically crying. That wasn't Lestat. Lestat wouldn't act that way. Bastien would want an explanation.

He continued walking, not really paying any attention as to where he was going, all the while running through various scenarios in his mind. None of them were working. All of them required revealing more than he was willing to.

This was all Louis's fault. The man threw him off balance, made him relax, made him let down his defenses. If he hadn't been upset over Louis, he would have been able to laugh off the stupid song.

Stupid, stupid song. Who writes a song like that? That was not what he'd needed to hear right now. He wished he could leave all thoughts of his father back in France with the man himself. Blank his mind and start anew. He tried. He tried and every time it seemed like he had it down, something snapped him back to reality.

It was when he came to a stoplight that he finally took notice of his surroundings. Louis's apartment was just a couple blocks away. He almost turned back the other way, but then the light changed and he found himself crossing the street.

There. Unlike his own, Louis's place was one of those gated buildings where you have to ring them up and have them buzz you in. He stood looking at the intercom for what seemed like an eternity, his finger hovering over the button labeled L. Pointe du Lac.

What if he's not home? What if he is home? What if I said I'm sorry, I love you, let's talk about this?

But he couldn't do it. He was too scared of the answers. He was scared by the intensity of what he felt for Louis. No one should have that sort of power over me. No one should be able to hurt me like this.

And too, he didn't want Louis to see him so out of control. He didn't want anyone to see him like this, not when he felt like anyone who took one look at him would know, would see through his act to what lay beneath and be repulsed. "Love you..." How much more of a lie would those words be if Louis knew the real Lestat? No, he couldn't risk it.

He turned and ran.

Not wanting to go back home, he wandered around the Village for a couple of hours, trying to get himself under control. Passing by Tower Records, he remembered Bastien's CD. He did feel bad about that, but he also had every intention of pretending it had never happened. Then he had an idea. There was nothing that said he had to hand it directly to Bastien, he'd just put it down by the stereo and never mention it again.

That decided, he went in and found the album he was looking for, and for good measure, bought a couple of other CDs he knew his friend had been wanting but couldn't afford.

Now the problem was it wasn't even seven yet, and he didn't want to go back to Bastien's until he was sure there would be plenty of other people.

A movie. There were two theatres just down the block, there had to be something decent playing. Seeing a movie all alone seemed kind of on the pathetic side, but there wasn't really much else that would occupy a two hour chunk.

It was about half past nine when he arrived back at the apartment. Letting himself in, he deposited the CDs and started to mingle. This was exactly what he needed tonight - lots of people, all paying attention to him. He basked in their comments, their flirtations, their admiring glances. He was the center of attention. This was right; this was how things were supposed to be.

You shouldn't spend so much time alone, Lestat, it makes you think too much, he told himself.

He saw Bastien several times throughout the night, but avoided talking to him or even meeting his eyes.

In the following days, he managed to keep himself busy enough that he rarely had time to think about Louis. He went to class, he hung out with friends; he went to clubs and parties every night of the week, anything to occupy his time.

His English class, however, he avoided like the plague.

He couldn't risk seeing Louis. Not yet. He still felt too much on edge. It was harder to put him out of his mind. It was much harder than it had ever been with anyone else.

It had started out the same. He'd seen Louis and he knew he had to have him, had to make him his own. It was a game he'd played many times before. If you thought of it as a game, it didn't hurt so much when it was over.

But something happened that day when he first saw Louis up close, when they first talked. They connected in a way he'd never connected with anyone before. Without even noticing it himself, it had stopped being a game. He hadn't stopped to analyze his feelings, there hadn't been time, and even if there had been, Lestat was not normally one given to deep soul searching.

Not that he was consciously thinking these things now. No, he was still trying to tell himself that it was all a game and that this was no different from anything that had happened before. But deep down inside he knew it was. Being with Louis made him feel complete, but more than that it made him feel real.

With Louis gone, he felt suddenly hollow and exposed. The truth of who he was, was something he had to keep hidden away, both from himself and from the world. It was his defense mechanism, his method of coping. No one could hurt him that way; they could only hurt the Lestat he let them see. But now he was frantically trying to keep that mask from crumbling away. What was once an effortless act, perfected by years and years of repetition, was becoming harder and harder to keep up.

So he avoided Louis, and for good measure he avoided Bastien as much as possible, too. As long as they were in a group, he felt safe, but he took care that the two of them were never alone together. Bastien was probably the closest thing Lestat had ever had to a real friend, but he couldn't risk the questions he saw in the other boy's eyes.

On Friday morning he thought about going to class. After all, he'd practically threatened Louis saying he'd be there. But he knew he wasn't ready, he couldn't pull it off. Would not showing up look like he was running away? Maybe. But it could also be that he didn't even care enough to follow through on his threats, that Louis wasn't even worth that much. Yeah, that sounded better.

That settled he headed for campus in hopes of finding someone to hang out with for the morning.

The following week went much the same way. He threw himself into everything, especially his acting classes. Already a favorite among his professors, his performances now practically moved them to tears. He positively glowed under their praise, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that said this was nothing compared to the role he'd been playing all his life.

When Friday came around again, he didn't even give a thought to going to class. No, he was doing too well, things were going too smoothly for him to risk putting everything off balance by seeing Louis. He told himself the class was so unimportant in the grand scheme of things that he'd completely forgotten about it.

He didn't get home that night until 3am. It was Bastien's roommate Kevin's birthday, and they'd all gone out, a big group of them, to a bar in West Hollywood. Lestat had taken the opportunity to mingle with those not of his party. Perhaps this was the perfect time to meet someone new to take his mind off Louis - not that Louis had been on his mind at all, he was quick to tell himself, it was just a figure of speech.

But things had not gone nearly as well as he'd hoped. The bar was full of attractive men, all of whom were practically stumbling over themselves for a chance to talk to him. That was good, that was right. The problem was that he inevitably found himself comparing them to Louis - and finding them wanting.

They clustered around him and bought him drinks and he flirted scandalously, but it didn't make him feel any better.

Then he made his biggest mistake. He excused himself to go to the restroom, and as he was doing so, caught the eye of one of his more ardent admirers. The boy was maybe nineteen, very pretty. He was Japanese, with huge eyes and a perpetual pout, his blond hair slightly fried from one too many dyes. Lestat tried to remember his name, he knew he'd introduced himself. What was it? Something with an N...Naoto? Yeah, that sounded right.

Lestat winked at him and headed to the back of the bar. He had only just stepped inside the restroom when the door opened again and Naoto entered. He looked unsure of himself, like he couldn't believe Lestat had chosen him out of all the guys there. It was a great ego boost, just what he needed.

This was how things were supposed to be. He was in charge, in control. Lestat grabbed the boy around the waist and kissed him hard, plunging his tongue deep into his mouth, tasting alcohol and cigarettes. He moaned and Lestat let him go, motioning for Naoto to follow him into the stall.

As soon as he slid the lock, he felt Naoto's hands on his fly, undoing the buttons and releasing his cock from the confines of his jeans. Another kiss and then the boy was going down on him. Lestat closed his eyes, but no sooner had he done so than he was beset with the image of Louis performing the same act.

They were in bed, Louis's mouth working him with a skill he'd never before experienced. They seemed to know the workings of each other's bodies intimately, though this was the first night they'd made love. Perfect, he remembered thinking, as Louis looked up at him through his lashes, green eyes simmering pools of desire, black hair brushing against Lestat's pale thighs. And then he came, exploding into Louis's throat, and those green eyes looked up again and Louis smiled - bewitching, predatory - and licked a stray drop of come from the side of his mouth.

At the memory of that smile, Lestat felt his balls tighten and he grabbed the boy's head, thrusting himself as far back as possible, nearly choking him. His eyes still squeezed shut, he cried out as the orgasm took hold of him.

When he finally caught his breath, he pulled Naoto up and gave him a kiss. He buttoned his jeans, straightened his hair, and then with a quick squeeze to the ass and a half-hearted "I'll call you" he extracted himself from the stall and bolted out the door, mentally cursing himself.

This was supposed to take his mind off Louis, damn it!

Calling out to Bastien and wishing Kevin a happy birthday, he left the club and walked down the road to where his motorcycle was parked.

He rode around for hours, enjoying the feel of the wind whipping his hair back, concentrating on not thinking of anything at all.

On Monday he checked his email and his heart nearly stopped when he saw the name Louis Pointe du Lac in his inbox. But it was just general message sent out to all his students, a reminder that midterms were Wednesday during lecture.

...Midterms?

Damn.

Lestat had paid so little attention to that class, he didn't even have the slightest clue what he was supposed to have been studying. He didn't even think he'd opened the textbooks once. And even when he'd gone to class, his attention had been focused on a certain black-haired, green-eyed grad student and not on early English literature.

Damn, damn, damn.

Where was his stuff for that class anyway? He looked all around the apartment, finally finding the stack of books behind two large shopping bags full of new clothes. "Oh, I forgot about these!"

After several hours of trying on various outfits and parading around in front of the mirror, he remembered what he had been doing. "Eh, who cares. The midterm can't be that hard, it's just a lower division class. I'll figure something out."

Now he really felt like shopping. Trying on clothes always did that to him. He didn't want to go alone, though, no fun in that. There had to be people to admire him. He debated calling Bastien, but decided against it. Instead he rang up everyone he knew until he'd found a couple girls who either didn't have class today or didn't mind ditching it in favor of a good old fashioned shopping spree, accompanied by the most eligible guy on campus. Well, who could resist that?

So shopping they went and Lestat bought just about everything that caught his eye, spending well over $1000.

"It must be nice to be able to drop that much money without even thinking about it."

Lestat just laughed and kept his back turned while he rifled through the rack so they didn't see the grimace that passed over his face or the way his eyes darkened with memories.

"Yeah, I wish I was rich..."

His fingers tightened on the metal pole and the voice in the back of his mind snarled, You don't know what you're wishing for, you stupid bitch! You think money makes up for everything else!?

Turning back to face them, he tried to shut out the voice. "I guess I'm just lucky." He smiled. "Come on, I think I've bought enough."

The phone rang just as he was running out the door. He let the machine pick up, but he stopped to listen to the message.

A woman's voice speaking French. His mother.

"Lestat, it's about your father... Call me back when you get home."

And that was it. Don't you have any other words for the son you haven't spoken to since July? No, of course not, I forgot who we're talking about.

He tried not to think on the phone call as he walked to the shuttle. He tried not to think on it as he rode up to campus. He tried not to think on it as he climbed the steps of Moore Hall and found an empty seat near the middle of the room.

Then finally there came something to take his mind off the phone call he wasn't thinking about.

Louis.

Lestat couldn't tear his eyes away. His black hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, too short strands in the front pulling out and falling into his face. Was it just his imagination or did his cheekbones seem more pronounced? His clothes a little too loose? No, he'd definitely lost weight. Maybe as much as ten pounds or so, and he'd been thin to begin with.

But that didn't take away from his beauty, no. In fact it made him seem even more ephemeral, something not of this earth. Lestat was finding it hard to breathe.

And then Louis spotted him, their eyes met. The tension was palpable and Lestat smiled bitterly, annoyed with himself that this man could still hold such sway over him.

He watched as Louis made his way back down to the front, then turned his mind to the task at hand. The essay. He held his pen poised and ready, but nothing came. He looked at the choices again. They didn't seem that difficult, there was no reason he shouldn't be able to do this. But his head was swimming and the words kept floating away when he tried to reach for them.

If he couldn't write an essay, then he should write something to Louis. A million things he wanted to say suddenly crowded his mind, but when his pen moved all that came out was a stupid challenge. "I'm expecting an A."

He bit his lip hard to try and keep from screaming. He almost ripped the page out, but decided against it. What was the use anyway? He felt a sort of fatalistic dread settle in the pit of his stomach as his mother's words echoed in his head. "...it's about your father..."

A voice whispered in the back of his mind, but it seemed to be coming from all around. You don't deserve happiness.

Then someone was telling them time was up and to turn in their papers. He stood up and walked to the front as if in a dream. He felt like he was watching himself from somewhere far away.

He watched as he waited until everyone else had left. He watched as he walked up to Louis and handed him the bluebook, mocking him, taunting him with his blatant sexuality. He watched as he smirked at the shocked look on Louis's face.

And then when he was out the door and far enough away that there was no chance he'd be seen, he turned and ran across the patio and up the hill, past the library and across the lawn. He didn't stop until he stood outside of MacGowan, and then he collapsed on the steps clutching his side and gasping for breath.

"...Ow..."

Note to self: don't ever, ever do that again.

As always, his theatre class took his mind of any other concerns and he was laughing and joking with his classmates as they left the building. Everything was going smoothly until he saw him standing there in the shadows, off to the side where no one else noticed.

As he walked by he tried to fathom his expression, tried to figure out what was going on behind those green eyes, but it was no use. Louis's face seemed a mask, devoid of emotion.

Then they were past him, but Lestat heard the footsteps as Louis fell in behind. He had been chatting with the girl next to him, flirting with her. His mind on Louis, he didn't even know what he'd been saying. She giggled, pressing herself against him and suddenly that detached feeling came over him again. "Why don't we ditch these guys and go back to my place," he heard himself whisper in her ear.

She apparently liked the idea, but pretended to be shocked at his suggestion as if she were some innocent virgin. "Lestat! What about that guy who was with you before? I thought you said he was the love of your life?"

"That's so over with, honey." He heard himself laugh, "You can be the love of my life tonight."

The footsteps faltered and then retreated quickly.

~ Chapter 11 ~

He was awakened the next morning by a not-too-gentle boot to the ribs. Rolling over got him nothing but the same boot on his backside. Opening his eyes, he blearily tried to focus on the figure in front of him. His head was swimming and hurt like hell.

Note to self: don't drink an entire bottle of vodka on a nearly empty stomach.

He sat up and immediately grabbed his head, crying out in pain. "Fuck!"

"You're a mess, Louis."

Wincing, he raised his head squinted in the direction of the voice. "Evan." It wasn't a question, more like an acknowledgement. After that message last night, it was hardly a surprise to see him here.

Well, he was surprised to find himself being kicked awake, yes, but not at the fact that his friend had apparently decided to take matters into his own hands.

He wasn't really all that surprised when he felt the fist connect to his jaw either, not hard, but in his current state the pain was amplified a hundred-fold. As if his head hadn't hurt enough before...

"Shit, what'd you do that for?"

"You tell me," Evan shot back. Then, swallowing convulsively, he added, "And put on some clothes, Louis, no one wants to see your skinny, drunk ass."

That didn't stop him admiring said ass - and more - when Louis finally got up and pulled on his old jeans and a t-shirt.

Flopping back on the bed when he was done, he sighed and closed his eyes. "I don't even know where to begin..."

Eyes still closed, he felt a slight weight settle on his chest. Oh God, no. He cracked open one eye and peered down at himself. Reaching down, he gingerly plucked Lestat's essay from its resting place.

Evan, meanwhile, had grabbed a chair and sat backwards in it, his arms folded across the back, chin resting on his arms. He waved at the bluebook. "Why don't you start with that, huh?"

Louis was silent. He held the pamphlet up above his head and stared, entranced.

"I take it this asshole's the cause of your current state?"

"...He's not an asshole." He let his arm drop back on the bed. "...You don't understand..."

"Then tell me, for Christ's sake! Help me understand. Come on, work with me here. You've been incommunicado for weeks, Louis. You don't return phone calls, you walk around campus in a daze... And now I come in here and the place is overflowing with empty bottles like you've had frat parties going twenty-four/seven." He took a deep breath and was about to start in again when Louis interrupted him.

"I should have changed the locks." This time there was a hint of a smile in his voice and Evan laughed.

"You've had five years to change the fucking locks, my friend. Or you could have just asked for the key back."

"Would you have given me my key back?"

"I'd have given you a key back," he laughed again and this time Louis did, too.

"Whatever."

His face suddenly serious, Evan got up and went over to the bed, sticking out his hand. "You don't have to do everything alone, you know. We're friends, right?" Louis lay still for a moment and then grasped the outstretched hand and pulled himself up.

"We are at that..."

He padded into the kitchen, wincing at the brighter light coming in through the open window. "Um, I don't really know that I have all that much to eat here...?"

"Coffee's cool."

"Coffee it is, then," Louis said, putting the water on to boil and then looking around in the cupboard. "Poptart?" he asked, offering the box to his friend.

"What kind?"

"Oreo."

Evan grunted in approval and popped a couple in the toaster. Louis was just eating them straight out of the package.

"Has anyone ever told you, you hold your liquor remarkably well?"

"Practice makes perfect, eh?" Louis replied. There was no use hiding anything from Evan when he was in this sort of mood.

When the coffee was ready, he grabbed both mugs and motioned for the other man to follow him into the living room. "Come on, I'll tell you the whole sordid tale," he sighed.

He finished talking and sat back against the couch, closing his eyes. One...two...crack! He hissed as the pain exploded in his jaw. It didn't do much for his headache, either. "You're predictable, Ev."

The other man just shook his head, his blond hair falling in his eyes, and walked back to his chair. "That was beyond stupid, Louis. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Evan." Louis's voice was soft, defeated, his accent more obvious. The way he said his name, putting the accent on the second syllable, brought back memories of a more innocent time, back when Louis had only been in the country a couple years and wasn't yet quite so Americanized. Away from home for the first time, the both of them. They'd stayed together for two years until they were both finally forced to admit they were meant to be friends and not lovers. Amazingly that friendship had so far survived more than twice as long as their ill-fated romance. Inwardly Evan allowed himself a bitter smile, sometimes "let's just be friends" really did work, but there was a part of him that always wished he could have been what Louis needed.

Louis said his name again, bringing him out of his reverie. He had his head thrown back and Evan could hear the tears in his voice. "I'm not perfect, you of all people should know that."

"I'm not saying you have to be perfect, I'm saying I expected you to have a little more sense than this."

"Disappointed?"

"I've never seen you like this before, man."

"I've never felt like this before," he snapped.

And hearing that hurt a lot more than Evan let on, but he didn't let it show. "Then quit dicking around and tell him that, not me!"

Louis was bent over now, head in his hands. His fingers were tangled so tightly in his hair, it looked like he was going to yank it loose. "I can't, Ev, don't you see? Not now."

"Why not?"

"I don't...I don't know how he feels anymore," he drew a long shuddering breath before continuing. "And I'm scared, I'm scared shitless like you don't even know. I'm afraid..." The last part came out in a whisper, barely audible.

"So you'd rather be totally miserable, drinking your life away and ruining your academic career in order to avoid the possibility of rejection?"

Louis laughed, but it came out as a sick, choking sound. "When you put it that way it does sound pretty pathetic."

"Or you can talk to him and maybe work things out and live happily ever after. Then of course if it doesn't work, you can always go back to plan A with the drinking and ruining, right?"

This time his laughter was genuine and he finally raised his head from his hands. "So what do you suggest?"

He hadn't even known Evan had brought the damn thing out from the bedroom, but now he magically produced Lestat's essay and tossed it down on the table between them. "This."

"This?" Louis looked down at the book and then back up at his friend. "What about it?"

"Write something!" he sighed and shook his head, as if unable to believe Louis hadn't thought of it. "And don't give him an A, Louis, for Christ's sake. You don't have to fail him, but if you're gonna sleep with your students you'd better not go around doing them favors, eh?"

"I told you I don't know why I did it!"

"I'm not trying to start a fight, I'm just saying is all."

"OK, OK, you're right. Is that what you wanted to hear? Evan Carter is God. All knowing, all powerful! Bow down to the great and mighty Evan!" he was laughing now, they both were.

"Shut up. You want me to hit you again?"

"Get out of my house. What time is it anyway?" Louis asked as he playfully shoved his friend out the door.

Evan looked at his watch. "Noon."

"Already? I've gotta get to class." He paused. "And Ev?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for coming by. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"No prob. What're friends for?" he turned back one more time as he walked away. "And you'd better call me and let me know how it goes!"

"Don't worry, I will."

When he finally shut the door, Louis looked at the bluebook he still held in his hand and tears came to his eyes. I don't deserve a friend like that... I really don't know what I would have done without you, Ev.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something left to salvage after all.

~ Chapter 12 ~

Lestat winced as his words echoed in his head, getting louder and louder until there was only a dull roar pounding against his skull.

"You can be the love of my life tonight."

Why the hell had he said something like that? What the hell had possessed him? He abruptly shoved the girl away and turned back the way Louis had gone. "Sorry, I just remembered something I have to do!"

He scanned the area, looking for Louis, but there was no sign of him. Damn it! Where had he gone? His step slowed when it became obvious that he wasn't going to find him here anymore.

Now what?

You've managed to make quite a mess of things today, haven't you, Lestat?

He realized he'd been holding his breath and let it all out in a great sigh. Grabbing the back of his hair convulsively, he paced back and forth and then abruptly sat down on the concrete. His fingers still clutched in his hair as if he could pull the answers from his head.

Truth be told, he was creating quite a scene. Here was this gorgeous, well-dressed creature sitting in the middle of the sidewalk glaring at anyone who caught his eye.

Then just as abruptly, he stood up and strode off towards the shuttle stop. It was no use, he couldn't think of anything. He just wasn't good at thinking things through. But winging it had definitely not been working lately, maybe he'd be able to think better at home.

Home. He was just turning the key in the lock when he remembered the call from his mother. Damn.

He knew he had to call her back, though every fiber of his being was protesting against it as he picked up the phone and dialed the number. What time was it in France, anyway? Didn't matter.

"Hello?"

"You called?"

"Lestat," she acknowledged, her voice distant as always. Before he would pretend it was just a trick of the phone, a bad long-distance connection. Faced with her in person this past summer for the first time since he had left for college had cured him of that fantasy pretty quickly. She would never change. She would never care. She couldn't.

"Lestat, come home. There's nothing more they can do for him. He wants to see you one more time." Her words were cold, her voice unfeeling. As if what she was saying couldn't possibly concern her. She was like ice and the chill of her raced through the airwaves from half a world away and settled in his bones. He shivered.

"Well I don't want to see him." His voice was desperate, shrill, and he hated the sound of it. His hand shook on the receiver. "I came home this summer when you insisted. I saw him, I saw everyone."

"You didn't exchange more than ten words with your father the entire time." From anyone else the words would have been accusatory, from her it was just a statement of fact.

How could she ask this of him when the very man she wanted him to see was the one who'd done this to her? Surely she hadn't always been this way? Surely there had been times...? Those precious moments that he held close to his heart, those memories that he played over and over again in his head in his darkest hours, trying to convince himself that maybe someone had loved him once upon a time. Surely those were real, not something he'd imagined. But those moments got fewer and farther between as he got older and now he couldn't recall the last time she had shown him any sort affection.

Maybe she had thought he was all grown up and didn't need to be comforted anymore. Maybe he had been too proud to tell her otherwise. Whatever the case, the gulf between them was now almost as great as the one between father and son. And he was bitter. Bitter and lonely and consumed by the fear that he was somehow inherently unlovable.

And so he had learned to push those feelings down, learned to lock them away. Had to make himself forget everything, anything. If he didn't... If he didn't... If he let them have control...well he would cease to function. That was all there was to it. He would be overcome, paralyzed.

He felt like he was on a tightrope. He'd been doing good, but now he was out in the middle and one misstep would send him tumbling into a black pit of despair below. He closed his eyes and for a moment imagined he could see the other side, and Louis was waiting there with his hand outstretched, smiling, telling him he could make it. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut as if to keep the tears inside. That wasn't going to happen now.

Trembling all over now, his voice came out barely above a whisper. "I can't. I can't see him. I won't!" His voice gradually rose until he was practically shouting into the phone.

"Lestat, you're being ridiculous. Just calm down. I'll wire you some money and you can..."

"That's your answer for everything, isn't it!? Well it doesn't work! It doesn't change anything!" And then he really did start crying and his voice fell back to a whisper again. "How could you let him...?"

Her only answer, in that same, cold, emotionless voice, was, "It wasn't easy for me, either."

Silence. He wondered if she'd hung up on him, but then she continued. "Lestat, the doctors are saying he doesn't have more than a few days left. Your brothers are by his bedside night and day..."

"My brothers," he said in disgust. "My brothers are a pack of fawning sycophants! They can have his money, they're welcome to it! I won't see him!!"

She knew him well enough to know it was no use trying to convince him any further. "I'll call you later, then." She meant when his father was dead.

And then she did hang up and he was left holding the silent phone, looking at it as if it could give him the answers he so craved. Why me!? The voice in the back of his mind cried out and he tried to silence it, to push it back. Tried to compose himself, but to no avail.

The phone fell out of his hand and dropped to the floor. His knees buckled and he sank down after it. "I don't care what he has to say. I don't want to hear it. Nothing he can say makes any difference now. He can just hurry up and die for all I care... They can all just go to hell..." But he was crying as he said this, lying curled up on the floor.

The tears soaked a wet spot in the carpet, but he didn't move all night. He didn't know what time he finally fell asleep or what time it was when the phone woke him again the next day. It rang practically right in his ear, but he made no move to answer, letting the machine pick up instead.

"You needn't bother coming after all."

And that was it. The end. Out with a whimper. The terrible monster that had loomed over him for as long as he could remember reduced to nothing more than dying old man who spent his last days in a hospital bed surrounded by his greedy, bickering sons. Eaten away from the inside by cancer, they hadn't caught it in time. When he'd first heard about his father's illness, Lestat had laughed, privately comparing it to the poison that ate away at his own soul, and thought to himself that it was only what the man deserved.

He had thought that when the old bastard finally died, he'd feel different. Free, maybe. Something, anything. But no, he just felt empty. Hollow. He was still angry, still hurt, but now he had no focus and no one to whom he could direct his feelings. They just were. There was no closure.

Still lying on the floor, he turned over on his back and looked up at the ceiling. The bastard had won. Even in death, he'd won.

He started laughing. It was a frantic, hysterical sort of laughter and he hated the sound of it. It sounded weak and pathetic to his ears, but he couldn't stop.

It was hours later when the laughter turned to choking sobs and then finally trailed off.

Sighing, he picked himself up off the floor and stumbled into the bathroom. He almost started laughing again, he looked such a mess. He scrubbed his face and brushed his hair, tying it back in a ponytail.

Back in the bedroom, he found a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt. Nothing fancy today. Grabbing a leather jacket and slipping into a pair of tennis shoes, he headed down to the parking garage and his bike.

As the engine roared to a start, he realized he didn't even know what time it was. Once outside, he looked up at the sky and figured it must be somewhere around one or two-ish. He was missing his theatre class, but what was the use now?

He donned his sunglasses and headed north, towards Sunset Blvd. No specific destination in mind, he just wanted to ride forever, as if he could somehow outride everything that had happened. As if maybe if he went fast enough or far enough, he could emerge on the other side as someone totally different. Ah, but hadn't that been his thought in coming to school here? That if he only got far enough away it would all somehow disappear. And how well that had worked?

He turned west on Sunset, racing through the hills at dangerously high speeds. It was a familiar path, one he had ridden time and time again, and he put his mind on autopilot, not really paying attention, letting the roar of the engine fill his head and drown out his thoughts.

When Sunset dead-ended at the PCH, he continued north, weaving through traffic and running red lights to avoid slowing down. It was a wonder he didn't get pulled over, but the cops didn't seem to be out today.

The hours passed and he kept driving, farther and farther up the coast. He didn't know where he was when he had to stop for gas. It was dark now, and starting to look like it might rain.

Leaving his bike parked at the gas station, he walked around to see if there was a way down to the beach. There was. A stairway, that led down the rocky cliff side to the sand. There wasn't really that much of a beach here at all, maybe thirty feet from the cliffs to the water.

There wasn't a soul around, not at this time of year, not at this time of night. Taking off his shoes, he wandered closer to where the waves lapped at the sand. The water was like ice. He lay down just far enough away so he wouldn't get wet and looked up at the sky. No stars tonight, not with all these clouds. Not much of a moon either, just a vast grey-ish black expanse of nothingness. Like a reflection of his soul.

He lay there spread-eagled on the sand for most of the night, eventually drifting off to sleep sometime near dawn. No one came down to the beach the next day to disturb him, and he only awoke late in the afternoon when the rain that had been a light drizzle that morning finally turned into a full downpour and nearly drowned him.

He sat up sputtering and coughing and totally disoriented. Looking at his soaked clothes, he was suddenly very glad he hadn't dressed up.

Trudging back up the stairs to the highway, he noticed he actually did feel rather better than he had yesterday, but as he rode back towards home his mood started to darken with each mile that brought him closer to LA. All he'd done was run away, it hadn't solved anything.

It was late and dark when he arrived back at his apartment. Parking his bike in the garage, he headed up the walk, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the figure sitting on his front steps.

"Louis..."

~ Chapter 13 ~

Louis might as well have skipped class for all the attention he paid. He was nervous as hell and really wanted a drink right about now. But no, he needed a clear head, needed to think this through.

What to say? That was the question. It was all very well and good for Evan to come stomping into his house and kick him awake - he'd pay for that one later - and say things like, "Just tell him how you feel, you sod!" as if it were the easiest thing on the planet. Sure, why didn't I think of that one? Maybe cause I'm scared shitless that it's too late and nothing I say now can make any difference.

There he was getting all depressed again. Stop it! That kind of thinking is not going to get you anywhere except flat on your back staring up at another empty bottle and wondering how long it's gonna take for the liver disease to set in. Been there, done that.

He sighed and fiddled with his pen compulsively. His notes, usually extremely organized and detailed, were haphazard and interspersed with various jottings on what to say to Lestat, lest he forget any good ideas that crossed his mind. He fidgeted, crossing one leg and then the other, then looked at his watch for about the fiftieth time. God, I'm acting like Lestat.

That night seemed both impossibly long and impossibly short. Long because he was mentally ticking away the seconds until he would see Lestat the next morning in class, trying at the same time not to think about the fact that Lestat hadn't bothered to come the past two weeks and this time might not be any different. Short because no matter how many times he tried to follow Evan's advice, he couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound...desperate.

Well, I am desperate, fuck it! was his final conclusion and he just decided to forget about pride, forget about appearances, forget about anything except the fact that he did not want things to end this way.

He stopped trying to compose a letter or write an essay or anything like that. Instead he picked up his pen and just wrote the first thing that came to his mind.

"Lestat, we need to talk. I hope, I pray
to God that you read this all the way
through, and that once you have, you'll
understand, at least a little bit, what
happened. But even so, we need to talk.
Reading this is not the same as talking
face to face. I need to know what's going
on in your head, too.

I'm rambling now and I know it, so let me
try and get back to the point. The point
is that I'm sorry. I was an asshole and
I'm sorry. No one is perfect, least of
all myself. I'm not going to try and
excuse my behavior, but please don't stop
reading because I desperately want for
you to understand why. Because I do...
and this isn't easy for me to say, either,
but I do love you. I love you and it
scares the hell out of me to think that
I might lose you now when we've only
really just met.

First off, I don't think I ever made it
clear to you how seriously I take my
position as a TA. When it comes down to
it, we barely know each other, so it was
foolish of me to think that you could
possibly know what this means to me. The
fact of the matter is that I've made a
lot of mistakes in my graduate career.
It's too complicated to go into the why
of it all here on paper, but it's
something we should discuss later. We
both have our demons from the past that
threaten to bring us down, and if we're
going to have any sort of relationship,
then those are things we can work
through together.

But the point of the matter is that I
made rather a mess of my first couple
years at grad school, but since then
I've been really trying to redeem myself,
and teaching this class was, is, to me,
a very important part of that process.
I didn't tell you that, so there's no
way you would have known, no way you
could have known, but still I blamed you
for making me compromise my ideals. It's
stupid of me, I know. You didn't force me
to do anything, certainly not anything I
didn't want very much to do, but still
that was how I felt.

I also, I will freely admit, was feeling
more than a little scared. I felt - and
still do feel - an attraction to you that
is almost overwhelming at times. Not
just physical attraction, either, although
God... But it's not just something
physical, I felt from the very beginning
connected to you in a way I've never
felt with anyone before. And I didn't
even know you and it scared me that I'd
feel this way for someone I'd just barely
met, you understand? I suppose I could
say it was love at first sight, that we
were soul mates, but it sounds so cliched
and I can't imagine myself ever saying
such a thing, but I just did and now I'm
rambling again. This is what you do to me.

So I was feeling both of these things, and
then I woke up on Saturday morning and the
full weight of what I was doing hit me
square in the face and my first instinct was
to run. I know said a lot of things I didn't
mean and I hope to God that you didn't mean
what you said, either. I cling to that hope
like a drowning man to a lifesaver. And
then I went home and I did the worst thing
possible, I tried to justify my actions.
I told myself it was all for the best and
then I went on to drink myself senseless,
and I've stayed that way these past few
weeks, drunk and without an ounce of
sense. I know this because if I'd had the
sense God gave a rock, I would have tried
to do something to get you back. Instead
I just tried to numb myself to the point
where I could no longer feel the pain of
losing you.

I should have done this before, tried to
talk to you. But I didn't, I couldn't. I
have many failings, but that's probably the
greatest - my tendency to just sit back
and bemoan my fate without trying to do
anything to change it. I didn't, I honestly
didn't even think I could do
anything about it. I just assumed it was
all over without ever trying again.

But, Lestat, I don't want it to be over.
I don't want us to end like this, before
we ever even started. So I'm praying that
you'll read this through and that you
can forgive me. And I just realized that
I'm going on the assumption that you
feel the same way about me as I did - do -
about you, but I don't even know if that's
true. I thought it was, I would like to
think I wasn't totally imagining the way
things were between us. So if you read this
and you think maybe there's still a chance
for us, then you know where to find me."

By the time he'd finished writing, his hand was cramping like hell and he felt emotionally drained, not to mention physically exhausted. But when he looked at the clock, he found it was already 8am, there was no time to sleep now.

He sighed and decided that maybe a shower would help perk him up. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall as the water hit him, trying not to fall asleep. Drained, yes, but he did feel better than he had since this whole thing started. He silently thanked Evan again as he rinsed himself off and stepped out onto the bathmat.

Looking at himself in the mirror for the first time in weeks, he grimaced. I look terrible, he thought. "Heroin chic," he said out loud with a laugh.

He wanted to look good, though, wanted to look good for Lestat. His clothes weren't as flashy and fashionable as Lestat's, but he found a pair of tight fitting black pants - not as tight fitting as they used to be, he thought and grimaced again - and a dark green ribbed turtleneck. His hair he left down. The look was heart-stoppingly stunning; he thought he looked presentable.

Lestat hadn't been in class, of course. He kept looking at the door the whole time, hoping it would burst open and Lestat would swagger in like he had that first day, but it didn't happen.

He passed out the essays and discussed them with the class, but his mind was only half on what he was doing. The other half was trying to think of the best way to go about looking for Lestat. Should he look around on campus? Yes, he was already here and he might as well try that first.

Easier said that done, really. Once he'd dismissed the other students, he wandered up the street towards Dickson and MacGowan and then back down. No sign of him outside and checking inside each building was really out of the question. There was no way he'd find him that way.

Back down by LuValle, he looked around in the stores and the coffee shop, but still no luck. He passed by the research library on his way to the north campus student union, but didn't even spare it a glance. No way Lestat was in there. Just then he saw a flash of bright pink out of the corner of his eye.

It was Lestat's friend...he tried desperately to remember the boy's name, then it came to him.

"Sebastien!"

Sebastien turned around and squinted in Louis's direction, then a smile of recognition lit up his face. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Have you seen Lestat?"

Sebastien's face darkened at that and he frowned. "I thought you two were off?"

"I, we were - are, but I need to talk to him. Do you know where he is?"

"Can't help you there, buddy. He's been avoiding me like the plague lately." He went on to tell Louis about the incident with the CD. "I don't know what got into him, but he's barely spoken to me since then, not alone anyway."

But Louis knew and this only added to his own suspicions. Lestat did indeed have his own demons to deal with. He sighed and thanked Sebastien for his time before moving on.

Lestat wasn't at Northern Lights nor at Ackerman Union, and that pretty much exhausted the list of likely hangout spots. There wasn't time to go over to Lestat's apartment and get back before his next discussion section, so he pretty much had to give up for now.

He didn't like it, but he figured if he'd waited this long another couple hours wasn't going to hurt anything.

The afternoon classes went slightly better than the one that morning, as he wasn't on edge waiting to see if Lestat would appear or not. The time seemed to drag, though, and by the time the second hour was finally up he was just about ready to scream in frustration.

A girl approached him to ask a question about her essay, but he brushed her off, telling her to come to his office hours next week. He felt a slight twinge of guilt, but then decided that's what office hours were for, after all, and told himself once this thing was settled with Lestat he'd be able to concentrate fully on his students again.

This time he knew exactly where to look. Friday afternoons were that theatre class in MacGowan, all he had to do was go peek in and make sure Lestat was there, then wait outside for him.

Only he wasn't there. "Are you looking for someone?" Louis jumped, guilty to be caught out.

"Um, yeah, is Lestat not here today?"

The professor grumbled, "Not today and not yesterday, either."

He was surprised and a little worried at that, it wasn't like Lestat to miss classes he liked, but he just nodded and said, "OK, thanks. Sorry to bother you."

There was no telling where Lestat might be, so he decided the best tack would be to just go over to his apartment and, if he wasn't there, wait until he got back.

Five hours later he was beginning to wonder if Lestat was coming home at all that night or not. He checked his cell phone and was surprised to see that it was only ten o'clock. It felt later. Then he remembered the reason he was so tired - he hadn't slept since Wednesday night.

That realization only served to make him even sleepier. He pulled the bluebook out of his bag and tried to read over what he'd written to make sure it made sense, but his eyes refused to stay open. Leaning up against the front door, he drifted off with the essay hanging loosely from his hand.

~ Chapter 14 ~

Lestat felt a sudden desire to turn and run, but he refused to give in. This is what you wanted, right? To see him one more time? That's why you ran after him the other day, right?

One foot in front of the other, he slowly closed the distance between them until he was standing before Louis. Asleep. He's asleep on my doorstep...

Squatting down, he took in the view. Louis was leaning back against the door, his head on the jamb. Black hair falling across pale skin. His lips were parted invitingly and Lestat couldn't resist; placing one hand on the door above Louis's shoulder, he bent his head and kissed them lightly, chastely, worshipfully.

Louis shifted slightly but didn't wake. Sighing, Lestat sat back on his heels, still fighting the urge to turn and run. Why was he here? He'd obviously been waiting for quite some time - long enough to get bored and fall asleep anyway.

It was then that he noticed the bluebook. Oh shit... It was with a sick sort of fascination that he reached out and plucked the essay from Louis's slack fingers, holding it slightly away from himself as if afraid of what it might contain.

A box in the top right corner told him his grade - D. The lowest grade possible to pass. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, but in the next instant he was acknowledging that it was better than he deserved and he should be grateful he hadn't gotten an F. Should be. Well, he'd work on that later. There was another grade that had been scribbled over - apparently Louis had actually considered the A...interesting.

There were no other notes on the cover, but then there wouldn't be, would there? If Louis had written anything in response to his challenge, he wouldn't have wanted it out in the open where anyone could read it.

He opened it slowly, all the while telling himself that Louis wouldn't have come all this way to hand-deliver it if all it contained was a big "fuck off". He wouldn't, right?

Whatever he was expecting, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes. There was his writing - a huge scrawl that took up half the page - and below it...below it was line after line of Louis's neat handwriting. He quickly flipped through the pages and found all sixteen (well, fifteen and a half if you subtracted the space taken up by his own words) of them and part of the inside back cover similarly filled.

His eyes darted back to Louis, but he was still sleeping. Nothing to do but read it then, I suppose... But he was terrified of what might be written there. He briefly toyed with the idea of just waking Louis up, but he knew Louis would probably just tell him to read it anyway. Right.

So he made himself more comfortable on the steps, took a deep breath, and started reading.

And then when he was finished, he went back and read it again just to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

"I love you."

"Lestat, I don't want it to be over."

Did Louis really write those things? This Louis? Here? On my porch? He kept looking over at Louis and then back to the essay, trying to make sense of everything he'd just read.

It just wasn't sinking in. He desperately wanted to believe, but there was still a part of him insisting that it must all be some sort of elaborate prank, or maybe a dream. Maybe he was still back on the beach, drowning in the rain.

He read through it again as if he was trying to memorize it; maybe he was. He didn't even realize he was crying until a tear splashed down on the page, causing the ink to run into an illegible blur.

Louis was disoriented when he first awoke. It was cold, really cold, and he was sitting on...concrete? Oh, the steps. He'd been waiting for Lestat; when had he fallen asleep? He heard a noise and his eyes snapped open. Lestat was sitting on the walk with his back towards him. His head was bent down as if he was reading something.

...Reading? It was then that he noticed the bluebook was no longer in his hand and he was momentarily overcome by a wave of panic. But no, you wrote it for him to read. There's no reason to panic. Just calm down. Take a deep breath, that's it.

He saw Lestat raise his arm and wipe furtively at his eyes. Fuck. He had really wanted to give him the book and be gone before he read it. This was...this was too, too something. Too nerve-racking. The suspense was killing him. He tried to remember exactly what he'd written, but his still sleep-deprived mind refused to cooperate.

Lestat had heard Louis wake up, but couldn't bring himself to turn around just yet. He felt too vulnerable after reading all that. Too open. So he started talking with his back still turned.

"Louis," he started at the same time that Louis said, "Lestat." They both waited for the other to begin until finally Louis laughed, breaking the tension.

"Lestat, I...well, I guess if you've read that you know why I'm here."

A pause and then, "I read it."

"And?"

Another pause, this one longer. "I'm sorry, too," he said in a small voice and then went on to clarify. "I didn't understand, didn't try to understand."

"Are you talking to the neighbors or are you talking to me? Turn around."

"No, I can't." He heard Louis stand up and come around to sit down in front of him, but he refused to look him in the eye.

"Lestat, this is what I'm talking about. This," Louis waved his hand at the space between them, "this is not communicating."

Lestat still refused to meet his eyes, and now he was starting to get angry. Getting up on his knees, he reached forward and grabbed Lestat by the chin, forcing his gaze forward. "Look at me, damn it!"

For someone who looked like they hadn't eaten in the past few weeks, Louis's grip was surprisingly strong. Lestat closed his eyes, expecting to be yelled at again, but the only response was a quiet, "Please."

Eyes still closed, he felt Louis's lips on his and he moaned, but as soon as his mouth opened Louis pulled back. His eyes snapped open and he found himself staring deep into that emerald gaze he'd been trying so hard to avoid.

Louis was looking at him with a mix of anger, uncertainty, lust, and something else that took Lestat a minute to place. Something he hadn't seen very much of directed his way, maybe not since those long ago days when his mother still retained some vestige of her humanity. Love, and with it concern.

"Let's go inside."

Inside, yes. He stood up and fumbled in his pocket for the keys.

Once in the door, he grabbed Louis and shoved him up against the wall. Mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. One hand tangled in his long black hair as the other explored his side, eventually coming to rest on his hip.

Louis responded without thinking, running his hands over Lestat's back, under his shirt, feeling his muscles and the ridges of his spine. He wanted this, wanted Lestat. There were no other thoughts in his mind.

But when he felt Lestat's leg press in between his things, he suddenly came back to his senses. Breaking the kiss, he panted, "No, Lestat, I...no." He couldn't seem to form a coherent sentence.

Voice still unsteady, he continued. "This is always," a pause to catch his breath, his heart felt like it would pound a hole out through his chest, "your answer to everything, isn't it?"

He pushed Lestat away and sat down on the couch, then, thinking better of it, moved to a chair. "You and I," he ran a hand through his hair, "we need to talk." He gestured at the couch across from him. "Sit."

Not knowing what else to do but obey, Lestat walked over and sat down. He'd stuffed the essay in his back pocket upon entering the house, but now he took it out again and looked at it.

Louis was slowly regaining control of himself. Yes, sitting apart from Lestat was definitely the right choice; he couldn't think otherwise.

"We need to talk about that, too, but first tell me what's with that outfit?" He'd never seen Lestat looking anything less than perfect. Every outfit was coordinated, a work of art. Something as simple as going to class often as not involved makeup, jewelry, and several wardrobe changes before he was satisfied. Not that Lestat didn't look stunning now, he did. Nothing could change that. He didn't need to be made up to look beautiful.

Flushing at Louis's words, Lestat realized for the first time that his hair was still pulled back and he was wearing a pair of old jeans and a t-shirt, not to mention the fact that he'd been through a rainstorm and a night laying on the sand. But Louis was smiling in a way that made him want to smile back. "I don't know what got into me."

"No, I do...I," he swallowed, trying to think of the right words, trying to figure out how he could make Louis understand. Finally he just gave up and said, "My mom called. The other night. She...my father's dead." There was a sort of wonder in his voice, as if he couldn't quite believe it was true.

"So that's why you didn't go to class? But I thought you'd be happy," Louis said, puzzled. The look of hatred on Lestat's face the one time he'd mentioned his father was not something he'd soon forget.

Lestat just stared back.

"...we both have our demons from the past..."

Louis's words came back to him and he knew then exactly what he'd been referring to. Had he really let his guard down that much with Louis? The thought nearly paralyzed him, but the next instant he shook it off. It's OK. It's OK if Louis knows because he loves you. And he found that he really did believe it, both that it would be OK and that Louis loved him. He felt strangely peaceful.

The flicker of fear across his face had not gone unnoticed and Louis was torn between going to Lestat and staying over here where he was safe and able to think straight. But then Lestat seemed to get a hold of himself.

"You...understand, but you don't," Lestat finally said.

"Huh?" came the confused reply.

"That didn't make any sense, I know." Lestat drew his knees up beneath his chin and tried very hard not to start crying. "It's all so sudden. I mean, we just found out this summer that he was ill and then... They said he didn't have long to live, right? But I didn't really think, I didn't really think he would die," he paused and considered that. "I don't think I really believed he could die."

He was looking over to the side now, avoiding Louis's eyes, in hopes that that would somehow keep the tears at bay. "I feel like there's nothing left to live for."

"What're you talking about?" Now Louis was really confused. This was a man Lestat hated - and Louis was pretty sure he had good reason to do so - but now he was saying there was no reason to live with him dead? What the hell?

"My whole life," deep breath, stay calm, "has been about revenge." There he'd said it, but looking over at Louis he still saw only confusion in those green eyes.

"Everything I've ever done since, since I can't even remember... Everything has been about revenge. I thought if I became a great actor, if I was famous, that it would, that I would be showing my father that he couldn't beat me. Showing them all that I was better than them."

Understanding dawned on Louis's face as Lestat continued. "So now with him gone there's no reason for it, no reason to do anything."

"What about doing it for yourself? Lestat, you love acting, I've seen you on stage. You're brilliant and the audience loves you. People love you."

"They don't love me," Lestat clarified. "They love the Lestat I make them love. That's not real; he's not real. If they knew me..."

And then Louis was out of his chair and standing in front of him, pulling Lestat up to stand next to him. "I love you." And surprisingly it was easier to say than he'd thought. "I know you, and I love you."

"None of what I wrote was a lie, Lestat. I'm not perfect and I can be an absolute ass and I make mistakes just like anyone, but I want to be with you, I want there to be an us. If you need a reason to go on then let it be me, not some fucked up revenge on someone who doesn't even deserve your time."

Lestat could feel his earlier despair being replaced by something else. Hope? Yeah, that sounded good. He was about to kiss Louis again when he remembered something. "Um..." He really didn't want to bring it up, not when things were going so well, but Louis had seemed so concerned about it in his letter. "Ah, should we, I mean, do you want to wait. Until the class is over?" Please say no, please say no, please say no.

Louis laughed, "I think it's a little too late for that, but I've...made peace with myself on that issue. As long as I don't treat you any differently from the other students, I don't see how it'll be a problem."

Lestat looked so relieved he couldn't resist laughing again. It felt good. When was the last time he'd felt so happy? "Rules are rules, though," he said, pulling Lestat's hair free from the ponytail, "so you'll have to behave yourself in public."

"I think I can handle that," Lestat replied, rather breathlessly.

Louis looked at the sand in his hand. "Did you go to the beach?"

"Yeah, long story," he grinned, the old Lestat suddenly back in full force. "I'll tell you about it in the shower."

The End.

An Interlude - Moments In-between