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He only followed him for a couple blocks. It's not that weird. It's not!
You can hardly blame Lestat given the circumstances. He'd been in New Orleans for all of a few weeks before coming in contact with a dream walking around in real life. He stumbled across a human man that glowed with pure light. He was strong, confident, protective, fierce. And unbelievably sexy. Lestat had to know more. He wouldn't have been able to live with himself if he just went home after seeing a guy like that. My god. What if he lost him?
Lestat started reading the man's mind.
He was mostly worried about bills. Not just his. His family's too. He had a mother and sister to take care of and his brother was fresh out of the mental hospital. There's a lot to pay for. So, he bought a business and used the fruits of other people's labor to boost his finances. It's exactly what Lestat would have done in his situation. And the business he chose.... oh, he likes this man. He likes him a lot.
Lestat followed him to a cheap little laundromat where he went to pick up some freshly cleaned suits. When he saw the fabric, he learned more about the man. He was a man of high taste. Class. Elegance. He likes things to fit. As they should. He's got a body on him that needs to be seen. Oh, yeah. He's too pretty to hide all that. And too fashionable. He chooses modern, stylish colors that brighten and accentuate his soft features. He picks only quality materials.
Is he straight? Married? Affianced?
Lestat hopes not.
He can no longer deny it. Standing in a dark corner, eyes roaming possessively over his body, Lestat knew he wanted a chance at him. More than a chance. He wants to bite him and watch the blood gush out. He wants to devour him.
The gentleman watched as the laundromat attendant zipped his pretty suits away into safety bags. He carefully inspected the cuffs and peered at the starch work, but he didn't make it obvious. This is a man who doesn't always get the best service no matter how much he pays. Hmmf! Lestat would take care of that if he could. If this handsome gentleman would just step aside and let Lestat lead, he would never have to worry about anything. His clothes would always be sparkling clean and his pockets would stay full.
It hurt him to watch that human man take dollar bills out of his pocket and slide them across the counter in exchange for his clothes. Lestat bristled with anger. It should be free-- everything should be free. He should be using Lestat's money.
It's not fair. This man should be taken care of. He should be spoiled; he should have a sugar daddy. With a body like that he shouldn't have to work or pay. Gosh, human men can be so stupid. That's why vampires exist. Lestat will just have to save him from himself.
The gentleman walked to the streetcar stop across the street and waited. Lestat heard in his mind that he wanted to pull out a book and finish a few pages, but he felt "unsafe" doing it outside. That doesn't make any sense. Lestat dug into his head. He wanted to know why. Flashes appeared in the human man's head, images of dead bloody bodies that looked like his with men that look like Lestat standing over them with a knife. If the human man started reading, it would offend someone and they would be legally allowed to kill him on the spot without consequence. That's horrible. What??
The gentleman left the book in his jacket pocket.
He waited patiently, quietly. And when the streetcar arrived, Lestat watched as he walked all the way to the back. More flashes appeared in his human head as he walked past empty and available seating. Images of dead bodies that looked like him plagued his mind, senseless violence, blood strewn across the first few seats of the streetcar. If he didn't sit in the back.... he may join them.
That innocent human could have died twice just now and all he did was stand outside. Yes, yes, Lestat knows. He wanted to kill the guy too, but it's different. He wasn't hateful. He was hungry. That's not... ugh!! This is so complicated.
Would this man object if someone like Lestat wanted to watch over him? Keep him safe? Kill anyone who came near him?? Lestat wanted to be that guy. Not his murderer, but his protector. Oh, how he longed to kill for him.
Lestat walked alongside the streetcar. He was fast enough to match pace with it. As long as he sticks to the shadows. If anybody on that streetcar touches his love, it'll be the last thing they do. His eyes were wide and focused on the back seats, fixated on the gentleman's face. No one else on the streetcar seemed to notice the eligible bachelor. Good. Lestat sighed happily, heart fluttering in his chest. It was happening. He was falling in love, crashing like a meteor burying itself into a crater miles underground. Oh, love. It's been so long. He can feel it blooming.
The human man hung his clothes on the railing beside his chair and pulled a book out of his jacket. He finally felt safe enough to read. He was in the middle of a book written by a man from the Caribbean islands, a Claude McKay. Lestat peered deeper into his mind. Poetry. He likes music and social justice and art. He respects people from different cultural backgrounds. He thinks women have been put on this earth to be listened to. And he thinks men are so sexually alluring that he can barely stand to be around them.
Lestat blushed.
Following this human was more fun than hunting for a meal ever was. Sure, Lestat could grab him right off the street and have a sneaky little snack, but... why? It would be such a waste. The man's profile in the train window was picturesque. It came naturally. He was disarmingly handsome, the kind of pretty gets away with murder. He had the type of face you didn't want to stop looking at. Not because of the beauty that attracted your eye, but because of the warmth that poured out of his face like a beam of light. His smile made Lestat feel like was being held close and rocked by a fire. His parents were never that warm. They were never soft and loving. They didn't smile when they were sad, or fight to protect the people they cared for. Not like this man. Not like... um.... uh.....
Lestat dug deeper into the man's mind. What is his name? He had to know.
The letters blossomed in his head like flowers in the springtime.
Louis.
Oh, Louis. Saint Louis! Of course that's his name! What a handsome sound it made. Gentlemanly and respectable. It really rolled off the tongue. Lestat blushed, imagining himself saying it in bed. Louis, Louis, ohh Louis. Mmm. That feels so--
Movement.
He's getting off the streetcar! It's time to hurry. Where's he going next?
Lestat clung to the shadows as Louis hopped off at the nearest stop. He crossed the street and walked right over to a pile of fabric on the sidewalk. Louis stopped and bent down to the fabric pile, petting it gently. He pulled out more money and set it down on the pile of fabric. The fabric moved. A hand reached out, shivering and cold. Someone was in there. Louis touched their hand. Their human fingers clasped together in the dark, joining their two bodies with one grip. And then he prayed with them.
Oh.
He's Catholic.
Lestat was Catholic once.
When Louis stood, he handed the cold lonely person a small loaf of bread that he had hidden away, folded up into a cloth cut from old clothes. He told the person they'd be okay and he would be back. Then he started walking again.
Lestat stopped following him for a moment. He swallowed what he'd seen and clenched his jaw. Louis is so many things. It would take more than one night to discover all the beautiful colors that make up the mosaic of this man. The dark stuff, the heartbreak, the fear and pain. And the light. There's so much light. He was like an exploding star, burning forever as long as the eye can see-- a man on fire that refused to be extinguished.
Louis walked a few more blocks. He was going home.
He thought he was alone.
He wasn't.
And he wouldn't be for a very long time.