A rescue was a nice thought while it lasted; Daniel holds the fact that Louis actually came and tried close, like a lifeline. Like the words he burned into his head and that they both forgot about, but still felt. He and Armand move around, and Daniel is eventually allowed to leave Louis another letter. A similar delivery method as the first, with a similarly shaky hand.
In it, he apologizes. He doesn't want Armand to fuck with his memories, and remembering Louis as it all really happened is more important than getting away. Please look after yourself, he closes it with, and wonders when he stopped thinking about his own fucking children. Maybe a long time ago, actually. Christ.
He and Armand do a lot of talking. Most of it veers between points of miserable and hostile, but some of it's alright. They have a kind of rapport about some things, and static about others. Daniel drinks an awful lot of his blood, and by the time they do make it to Italy, he's sure he's going to die. Probably not even by Armand's hand, because Armand mentioned (seemingly by accident) having mailed all of Daniel's things back to his apartment in New York. It's the fucking sickness, and stress. He's in pain a lot. Sleep is elusive, he has trouble wanting to eat anything. Moving around like this is difficult. Armand holds his hands on flights and train rides, and he hates that it's comforting, but hates that he's with him more.
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A rescue was a nice thought while it lasted; Daniel holds the fact that Louis actually came and tried close, like a lifeline. Like the words he burned into his head and that they both forgot about, but still felt. He and Armand move around, and Daniel is eventually allowed to leave Louis another letter. A similar delivery method as the first, with a similarly shaky hand.
In it, he apologizes. He doesn't want Armand to fuck with his memories, and remembering Louis as it all really happened is more important than getting away. Please look after yourself, he closes it with, and wonders when he stopped thinking about his own fucking children. Maybe a long time ago, actually. Christ.
He and Armand do a lot of talking. Most of it veers between points of miserable and hostile, but some of it's alright. They have a kind of rapport about some things, and static about others. Daniel drinks an awful lot of his blood, and by the time they do make it to Italy, he's sure he's going to die. Probably not even by Armand's hand, because Armand mentioned (seemingly by accident) having mailed all of Daniel's things back to his apartment in New York. It's the fucking sickness, and stress. He's in pain a lot. Sleep is elusive, he has trouble wanting to eat anything. Moving around like this is difficult. Armand holds his hands on flights and train rides, and he hates that it's comforting, but hates that he's with him more.
Venice is beautiful. He doesn't notice.