"Louis." Daniel looks at him. A distraction while driving, whatever. "You needed yourself more than I needed you. I'm happy for that." He squeezes his hand. "I'm happy. I wanted more than anything for you to be free from it. For once, you had to take care of yourself, with your own head. I'm alright."
It'll always be true that Louis walked away and Daniel died. But it can be true, at the same time, that he's happier now, and that he doesn't blame Louis for what happened. Or how it happened. Life isn't neat, and very little is mutually exclusive. He will never hold it against Louis, but there will always be a footnote there, a reminder to be ready to protect himself. He can't ask to be anyone's priority.
And that's fine. That's always been him. An ocean of burned bridges, ruined relationships, "friends" behind him. Louis is so important. He can't... he just can't.
It is true, and it weighs so heavily on Louis. It had cost Daniel dearly, Louis' freedom. He'd forgotten himself, chosen to indulge the overwhelming need that had cracked open in him over Daniel.
Laces their fingers together more securely.
"I can take you home," Louis offers gently. "I'd like to."
Do the thing he should have done in the first place. Too little too late.
Take him home. Wouldn't that be nice. For a second—
Just for a second, Louis' driving him somewhere, they're near a less-impressive bridge than the one on all the postcards, veering towards Stockton, and a shitty apartment. Maybe it's 1973, and everyone's the same age that they look. 1992, maybe. He's divorced. He's going to get the fuck over himself, admit it all, finally, because the date he's on is maybe the best date he's ever had, and all that's happened is they laughed over a few drinks.
Wouldn't it be nice. Wouldn't it be nice, too, if it were six months from now, and Daniel was settled, and the idea of going on a flight with someone else, bringing them into his apartment, being scrutinized and watched over, didn't make his skin crawl. He feels bad about what he's about to do, but he also feel like he's going to claw his way out of the car if he doesn't do it. He's grateful for the help, guilty for the harm, and he just needs some space.
"The airport is fine."
Close enough to home.
"Or— couple blocks," he points, "should be a tube connection I can hop on. I've been to London fuck knows how many times. I just," man, this feels weird, "I'll make sure they don't take it out on you. I can make some calls. And I just need to figure it out, Louis. I need to know I can do it."
"I'm not worried about them," Louis says, the easier topic. "I don't want you spending your favors on me."
The Talamasca can do what they like. Perceive him as they like. Louis doesn't care at all. But he cares about Daniel, and whatever link he's cultivated. Better to shift blame to Louis, who wants nothing from them, needs nothing from them.
A tightening of linked fingers. Indulging the impulse to hold on.
A thought held behind his teeth: I just found you.
It's painful. This request is painful, more so because what can Louis do but acquiesce?
Carefully, attempts a minor appeal: "Say you ain't going to vanish on me. If you won't give me until the airport, give me that much?"
Not spending favors. Looking after Louis, having his back like an actual friend, not like someone trying to keep him in a dollhouse. Daniel squeezes his hand, reassuring silently.
"Hey."
Boyishly exasperated. Everything's a bit weird right now, but there's no need for doom and gloom. For one thing—
"I'm not the vanishing type."
Unlike his exes who've run out of steam and given up, and/or the vampires who dumped him in a crack house and vanished for fifty years. Ha ha. Daniel will follow through even if it risks killing him, as Louis damn well knows.
"If you don't take care of yourself I'm gonna be pissed, though."
Some minor objection. Daniel did vanish, for some months. Louis had reached out and reached out and reached out into nothingness and Daniel had not reached back.
He could argue the point. He doesn't.
"I don't wanna go such a long time without speaking to you again."
Trying to say a thing without saying it. Gripping Daniel's hand. Wanting to ask him to stay. To let Louis help, in whatever way would suite Daniel best.
Daniel didn't vanish, he was ignoring Louis. Huge difference. Let's not get lost in the weeds, here. Perhaps an unkind thing, but a necessary thing, and a boundary thing. A thing that Daniel is being pretty gracious about Louis crossing, but honestly, he's missed him. It makes his heart ache to leave, but the feeling doesn't drown out the need to assert independence.
Vampire loneliness, horrendous crimes over coupling, eternal lives ruined, children executed. He doesn't want any part of a coven, he doesn't want a companion, he doesn't want an almost-companion. Maybe in time, he'll figure out how to regulate how he feels about it. But he's not going to figure anything out while someone's watching.
What's he going to do, take care of Louis? No. Daniel is a bad partner and a bad parent. The idea of being responsible for someone else makes him want to find the nearest escape hatch. Always has. Being ransomed also has little effect on him— he knows he's not actually vanishing, knows he's not a suicide risk, and so, Louis has nothing to worry about.
"Don't change your number, then." Assuring. Look. They'll figure it out. "And think about the book, huh? You wanted to change the world. We're gonna."
A sentiment so entirely divorced from these past months of silence.
He had missed Daniel. He had been missing Daniel, years of missing him, without even fully understanding or recognizing the feeling. The way Daniel says this thing, it reminds Louis of the night they met. It reminds him of the way Daniel talked about his interviews, fussing with the strap of the bag holding his tape recorder.
World-changing. Daniel has done his fair share already.
Daniel could open the door and step out of a moving car if he wanted, but Louis doesn't make him. He pulls to the curb, as directed. Daniel is going to leave. Louis is going to let him. Daniel will publish the book. Louis is going to let him. Inevitable, all of it.
Louis wants it to be inevitable too, that they come back to each other. But he doesn't know how to draw that out of Daniel, so bites back the urge to appeal more strongly to him.
"Call me," he says instead. "I want you to call me, anytime you like. Or need."
Hands detangled (he feels cold), bag re-shouldered. Still fiddling with the straps, though there's a laptop inside of it, now.
Louis' eyes are so green. He's so beautiful, even looking unhappy with him, in the dim light of the car, with the highlights from outside. Flashing neon colors from the traffic signals, and the false warmth of yellow street lamps.
Daniel reaches over to touch his shoulder. Leans in, presses a kiss to his cheekbone. It feels friendly and chase, it feels too intimate, it's half electric and half gutting. He loves him. He wants to stay. But all of that puts fight or flight into him like a cornered animal.
Not ready. Might not ever be.
"You're gonna get so annoyed when I figure out how to really call you."
A grin, and wink, and he hops out of the car. Into the night.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It'll always be true that Louis walked away and Daniel died. But it can be true, at the same time, that he's happier now, and that he doesn't blame Louis for what happened. Or how it happened. Life isn't neat, and very little is mutually exclusive. He will never hold it against Louis, but there will always be a footnote there, a reminder to be ready to protect himself. He can't ask to be anyone's priority.
And that's fine. That's always been him. An ocean of burned bridges, ruined relationships, "friends" behind him. Louis is so important. He can't... he just can't.
"I have to go home."
no subject
It is true, and it weighs so heavily on Louis. It had cost Daniel dearly, Louis' freedom. He'd forgotten himself, chosen to indulge the overwhelming need that had cracked open in him over Daniel.
Laces their fingers together more securely.
"I can take you home," Louis offers gently. "I'd like to."
Do the thing he should have done in the first place. Too little too late.
no subject
Just for a second, Louis' driving him somewhere, they're near a less-impressive bridge than the one on all the postcards, veering towards Stockton, and a shitty apartment. Maybe it's 1973, and everyone's the same age that they look. 1992, maybe. He's divorced. He's going to get the fuck over himself, admit it all, finally, because the date he's on is maybe the best date he's ever had, and all that's happened is they laughed over a few drinks.
Wouldn't it be nice. Wouldn't it be nice, too, if it were six months from now, and Daniel was settled, and the idea of going on a flight with someone else, bringing them into his apartment, being scrutinized and watched over, didn't make his skin crawl. He feels bad about what he's about to do, but he also feel like he's going to claw his way out of the car if he doesn't do it. He's grateful for the help, guilty for the harm, and he just needs some space.
"The airport is fine."
Close enough to home.
"Or— couple blocks," he points, "should be a tube connection I can hop on. I've been to London fuck knows how many times. I just," man, this feels weird, "I'll make sure they don't take it out on you. I can make some calls. And I just need to figure it out, Louis. I need to know I can do it."
Alone.
circling bow territory
And Louis doesn't want to leave him.
"I'm not worried about them," Louis says, the easier topic. "I don't want you spending your favors on me."
The Talamasca can do what they like. Perceive him as they like. Louis doesn't care at all. But he cares about Daniel, and whatever link he's cultivated. Better to shift blame to Louis, who wants nothing from them, needs nothing from them.
A tightening of linked fingers. Indulging the impulse to hold on.
A thought held behind his teeth: I just found you.
It's painful. This request is painful, more so because what can Louis do but acquiesce?
Carefully, attempts a minor appeal: "Say you ain't going to vanish on me. If you won't give me until the airport, give me that much?"
jaws theme
"Hey."
Boyishly exasperated. Everything's a bit weird right now, but there's no need for doom and gloom. For one thing—
"I'm not the vanishing type."
Unlike his exes who've run out of steam and given up, and/or the vampires who dumped him in a crack house and vanished for fifty years. Ha ha. Daniel will follow through even if it risks killing him, as Louis damn well knows.
"If you don't take care of yourself I'm gonna be pissed, though."
no subject
Some minor objection. Daniel did vanish, for some months. Louis had reached out and reached out and reached out into nothingness and Daniel had not reached back.
He could argue the point. He doesn't.
"I don't wanna go such a long time without speaking to you again."
Trying to say a thing without saying it. Gripping Daniel's hand. Wanting to ask him to stay. To let Louis help, in whatever way would suite Daniel best.
no subject
Vampire loneliness, horrendous crimes over coupling, eternal lives ruined, children executed. He doesn't want any part of a coven, he doesn't want a companion, he doesn't want an almost-companion. Maybe in time, he'll figure out how to regulate how he feels about it. But he's not going to figure anything out while someone's watching.
What's he going to do, take care of Louis? No. Daniel is a bad partner and a bad parent. The idea of being responsible for someone else makes him want to find the nearest escape hatch. Always has. Being ransomed also has little effect on him— he knows he's not actually vanishing, knows he's not a suicide risk, and so, Louis has nothing to worry about.
"Don't change your number, then." Assuring. Look. They'll figure it out. "And think about the book, huh? You wanted to change the world. We're gonna."
no subject
A sentiment so entirely divorced from these past months of silence.
He had missed Daniel. He had been missing Daniel, years of missing him, without even fully understanding or recognizing the feeling. The way Daniel says this thing, it reminds Louis of the night they met. It reminds him of the way Daniel talked about his interviews, fussing with the strap of the bag holding his tape recorder.
World-changing. Daniel has done his fair share already.
Daniel could open the door and step out of a moving car if he wanted, but Louis doesn't make him. He pulls to the curb, as directed. Daniel is going to leave. Louis is going to let him. Daniel will publish the book. Louis is going to let him. Inevitable, all of it.
Louis wants it to be inevitable too, that they come back to each other. But he doesn't know how to draw that out of Daniel, so bites back the urge to appeal more strongly to him.
"Call me," he says instead. "I want you to call me, anytime you like. Or need."
no subject
Louis' eyes are so green. He's so beautiful, even looking unhappy with him, in the dim light of the car, with the highlights from outside. Flashing neon colors from the traffic signals, and the false warmth of yellow street lamps.
Daniel reaches over to touch his shoulder. Leans in, presses a kiss to his cheekbone. It feels friendly and chase, it feels too intimate, it's half electric and half gutting. He loves him. He wants to stay. But all of that puts fight or flight into him like a cornered animal.
Not ready. Might not ever be.
"You're gonna get so annoyed when I figure out how to really call you."
A grin, and wink, and he hops out of the car. Into the night.