I'm Not Okay, (I Promise)

[Amant]

Lestat listened to the other, gaze downward still. Thinking, wondering, praying. "I... do not know Louis. We are, yes, two completely different types of vampire. But does that stop us from loving one another? I understand that I am... difficult. I come to admit that I am. But if I am so difficult, why do you bother so? Why do you speak to me when I come, call to me when I leave, love me when I am at my worst? You are a hypocrite Louis, you and I both know this. Both of us are hypocrits to a great level, this at least, we have in common." His tone was softly spoken, gaze still away from the other as he leaned back now on his heels, letting the feel of flaxen hair brush over his attire, sight filled with the image of grass and gravel beneath him.

"I love you Louis..."

He glanced up at the other a moment before turned away, back to the other as he slowly began to stroll down by the gate, a pallid hand running over it sluggishly, follow each dip and each rise, each point and each crest. "I previously wrote a poem, Louis, of you and I. It was from before when I was the 'rock superstar' the vampire Lestat. It was intended as a song but... I never went far with it, finding I was a bit too selfish about sharing my feelings with others. But perhaps, I might quote?" he said, still facing away from the other as he paced on slowly.

My Dearest Amant,
To every night of which I rise,
you are my thought.
And everytime I roamed those streets,
you were the one I sought.
Towards my memories I now lean,
One of which you brought.
And memories of your dark features,
To which my eye was caught.

Louis,
Do you still believe those myths,
of God and his creations?
Or do you wander sadly now,
across these deslent nations?
Has this truth affected you,
brought you to temptations?
Or do you simply hide the light,
lost in condemnations?

My beloved,
Will you take me to your arms,
and forget of all i've done?
Those cherished times are all but gone,
our child left in the sun.
At each break I call to you,
to find you simply run.
And with your leave you take my heart,
to weigh my soul a ton.

Thy Fledgling,
For you I made this poem,
to tell of all i've told.
In my words to you I speak,
of love and nothing cold.
And to you I gave a secret,
twined of blood and gold.
But this bond with you I share,
is more then what's fortold.

My Lover,
Fare well my friend until the end,
as I leave you for the night.
Fear not not right now nor never more,
have hopes for our unite.
And to you I shall return,
when the tale is right.
But for now I must depart,
a shadow in your sight...

With each stanza he would pause in step and words, frozen there a oment to whisper the beginning of the next one until finally finsihed, standing at the far end of the gate, turning around to look at Louis. "I doubt you wished to hear such things you might dub 'hypocritical' but being I, I cared not to ask. My dear Louis, it is time for me to leave. The sun is coming and I need to be rid of this place. Do you come with me or do I leave alone?" He enquired, hand resting upon the gate lightly as he raised a slender eyebrow, awaiting a responce.

((Just HAD to toss the poem in. ^-^'))

[Louis]

Louis stood unmoving, his head bowed, as Lestat spoke. He looked up as his maker began to pace and emotionally recite this poem he had written so long ago. He unknowingly adopted that state of utter unblinking stillness that so startled mortals as his mind circled. What should he do? Time and again Lestat disappointed him and was disappointed by his fledgling; time and again Lestat left Louis without giving a word as to when he would seek him out once again. Louis was weary of this uncertainty. But could they not try again? Ah, he had this same argument with himself everytime this bitterness surfaced, and everytime he came to the same decision: give it one more chance. He shook his head, breaking the eerie stillness.

"If you are serious," Louis began softly, hesitantly. ". . . I will come with you." He almost regretted his words. Surely he had chosen his own unhappiness in agreeing to be with Lestat again.

His thoughts swam to the moment of his death. At that moment, when Lestat had been taking his blood, giving it back, Louis had felt such surity, such blissful release. Had it all been the sensual magic of the blood, or had it been something more? Louis pondered. Perhaps what he had been dismissing as the simple contentment of his pleasured mind was the love he felt in that moment, the knowledge that this was right. He breathed deeply, taking in the still night air, before turning to Lestat.

"I love you, Lestat," he said quietly, his eyes unwavering from Lestat's own. "Where shall we go?" And when shall you leave me? he wanted to ask. He blinked once as his eyes glazed over crimson. No, do not think of that, not yet.