To Love Again

The Club and Beyond

Flashing lights. Blinding colors of red, blue, green... they meld together, shifting in beat with the pounding music. Reverberations that spread throughout bodies. Crowds of stumbling, flailing, dancing- if that's what one would call it, people, some drunk, some not. Beautiful, ugly, unholy, happy chaos. And at the center of it all a blonde, with eyes slipped shut and a quirky half-grin. Loose arms are up, moving through the hot, stifling air; subtle movements that dare not draw attention away from the swaying hips. Thin fabric, purple to natural light, but a collage of dark morphs, altered by the filtered flashes of nonstop colors. It lifts with the long arms, revealing a strip of pale flesh, teasing to the lusty, drunken onlookers. One onlooker in particular, neither drunk nor lusting, watches with a great curiosity.

Up above, blending within the crowded walkways of the second floor, a man stands amongst the shadows. His sharp eyes watch the dancing one, a hint of bemused curiosity in his stance. Something grows in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that causes hands to clench into fists and eyebrows to knit together. The cause of this strange feeling is an unfamiliar man. One who walks up behind Lestat, joining him in the none-too-appropriate dance. Their bodies move together, the man's hands grasping lightly at Lestat's hips as pale hands reach behind, curling in the blue dyed hair. From his place on the dance floor, Lestat glances up, eyes landing directly on Louis. For a split second his eyebrows furrow and his mouth opens slightly, but before he is able to properly look, Louis has disappeared.

Through the dazzling lights and a hazy mind, Lestat is unsure if what he saw was real, or just another misconception. Old ghosts roaming the dark places of a tattered mind, painful wants becoming woven into reality. His movements are distracted, disconnected from the world around him. The man behind him takes notice of this and tightens his grip on Lestat's hips, moving to speak in his ear.

"Are you alright?" He semi-yells, voice not quite carrying over the music.

"I-i'm fine." Lestat responds, voice impossible to hear. He shakes his head slightly, turning in the man's arms, "we should head somewhere calmer!"

"Alright. If you want to." Grabbing ahold of Lestat's arm, as not to lose him in the swarm, he moves towards the exit.

Ringing. Loud and piercing, infiltrating ear drums in the sudden lack of deafening noise. An assault of quiet and freezing air. Goosebumps raise on flesh, and arms cross to keep warmth.

"Is everything alright?" Draven asks once again, joining Lestat on the slick, icy sidewalk.

"Yes. I apologize, just something about that place." He shakes his head, looking down at the dirty, concrete path.

"I know exactly what you need."

"What?"

"Just follow me."

Casting a glance back at the club they have just abandoned, Lestat follows Draven down the deserted street.
~•~
"I do not think this idea is very wise," Lestat comments, staring down at the body of a passed out person.

"Come on, it'll help I promise. Don't you want to enjoy yourself?" Lestat hesitates for a moment, squinting at Draven. Giving a small sigh, he gives in, leaning down. A fuzzy warmth spreads throughout his body. It buzzes in his fingertips, courses throughout his veins. Before he is done it has clouded his brain, muddling his thoughts and skewing his decisions. As time passes the effects really begin to take hold, growing stronger.

"Shall we be off?" Lestat suggests, a drunken smirk gracing his face.

"We shall," responds Draven.

The night becomes a swirl of twisting memories. Scenes careening through an intoxicated mind. A blazing trail of burning regrets cloaked in false happiness. The spastic strobes replace flickering street lamps, cool outside air forgotten for the stuffy, smelly momentary escape. A momentary moment that lasts days. Repeating cycles to forget, to feel free, to feel alive, but most of all to feel not so alone. Bursting sparks amidst a shallow darkness- going off bright and loud, all at once, only to fizzle out and lose the light, replaced again the next night. The repetitive cycle, the dangerous cycle, lasting the course of four nights. Four nights that shift into days, days that come too quickly, arrive too soon. Days that nearly touch alabaster skin- planting their fiery kiss with feather light touches. Days that almost succeed in the downfall of a broken angel.

Days that bring concern to a silent onlooker, experiencing each night with various tones of worry- experience from a distance that alters perception. A perception that brings the need to intervene- to stop the downfall midair, to catch the broken angel before they can crumble.

It is early in the morning. Despite the nights chill, the air is gradually warming. Soon the sun will rise. Sloppily seated in a slump in a booth is Lestat. He wears nothing but a pair of low cropped skinny jeans, an unbuttoned white blouse, and black socks. His discarded shoes sit beside him. For the first time in four days he is alone, his blue haired companion nowhere to be found. If he does not leave within minutes than there is no way he will make it home. Lestat does not move. Perhaps he does not realize. With eyes glazed over he stares at an empty glass, finger tracing circles around the rim. His mouth is parted slightly in thought, an almost confused expression on his face. Perhaps he does not care. Louis casts a weary glance outside, standing from his perched position across the room. Lestat is so out of it that he doesn't even notice him. Gently he places a light hand on Lestat's shoulder, drawing the man out of his own mind.

"We need to get you home." He says, just loud enough to hear. An array of emotions flash across Lestat's face, mouth opening to speak. He is unable to get any words out. Before he can process the situation, Louis has pulled him from Club, outside into the morning air. He doesn't allow Lestat to talk, hushing him every time he tries. By the time they manage to reach Lestat's apartment, the sun is already beginning to peer out from behind the distant trees.

The apartment is easy to navigate, Lestat not so much. It is a struggle to drag him into his bedroom, as he seems to want to be anywhere except there.

"Lestat!" Louis exclaims, exasperation reaching its peak, "you need to get into your coffin."

"But I don't want to!" He sounds like a stubborn child, arms crossed, backed into the rooms corner. Louis lets out an annoyed hiss, moving toward Lestat. His hands grasp Lestat's shoulders tightly.

"Lestat. Get. In. Your. Coffin."

"No." He says the word, eyes staring deep into Louis'.

"Why?" Louis is quickly becoming frustrated, "Just get in the goddamn coffin!"

"I won't!"

"Lestat! Why?" By now they're both yelling.

"Because you'll leave!" There is nothing but anger in Lestat's voice, but his eyes- his eyes are a different story. They close and Louis is left speechless.

"Lestat?" His voice is quiet.

"I've said too much." He removes Louis' hands from his shoulders, stepping aside and walking over to his coffin, "down in the basement there's a door, you're smart I'm sure you'll find it, it leads out of here. You'll end up in a cemetery." Without another word the coffin is closed and Louis is left in a room of silence.
~~~~~
Word Count: 1259
~This chapter was longer than expected and very late. Sorry bout that. I dunno when the next chapter will be up, but it'll be sometimes in February.