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“It looks good on you,” Louis says. He’s not lying. The eyepatch gives Armand a special sort of edge – emphasizing all his mystery, the blending of vulnerability and dangerous potential.
Armand inclines his head politely. “I never got to have a pirate phase as a child. Making up for lost time, it seems.” His eyes slide over Louis, linger on the engraved handle of his cane. Louis tenses up involuntarily. “You look good too,” Armand says. The softest hint of a smile Not mocking, not even close.
“Thank you.” Louis knows this is where he ought to turn and go inside. But he can’t. His feet are stuck to the ground, glued by the aching tenderness that washes over him. He wants to pull Armand into his arms, to stroke a thumb over his cheek. He wants to peel away the eyepatch and run the tip of his nose over Armand’s brow bone, nuzzle gently against the swollen, still-healing eyelid, press fluttery butterfly kisses against the spiderweb of scars spread over Armand’s cheekbone.
He wants to cup Armand’s face and whisper, You’re here; I’m here. My beautiful baby. He’s so relieved, so grateful. Despite everything.
Instead of saying or doing any of that, Louis gestures graciously toward the doors of the bidding hall. “After you.”
For a moment, Armand looks like he might object, might say something else. Louis doesn’t even know if he wants him to. Then the moment is gone, and Armand walks slowly inside, letting the doors swing shut behind him.
Louis stands in the now-empty hallway for several more minutes. It’s easy to leave someone, as far as hard things go. It’s a lot harder to stop loving them.