Louis De Pointe Du Lac

Sans Francisco, California 1973

You loved Louis, you really did— but every mess you had to clean up for Louis to keep the both of you from being exposed, the loveless nights and arguments while Louis was fully high off his ass from whatever boy he pumped full of drugs just to drain and discard in a rather disgusting manner in one of the many apartments you owned together. It was infuriating, he was infuriating. But you could never stay pissed off at Louis for long, even if he'd disappear to days at a time, completely disregarding the curfew you put in place for him, he knew better, but you loved him too much. Eventually the kisses would come back, especially at the bars he picked his prey up from.

"I'll come home soon, I love you.." He'd say, kissing your cheek just to not come home from the apartment of choice for the night. Sometimes, if his drug-addled could ever remember, you'd have to drag him home because of those horrid tantrums of his, you loved him, why wouldn't he listen? Why couldn't he just.. comply? Like Ouroboros it was a loop. A cycle. Louis taking a boy to an apartment, pumping him full of drugs to feed his disgusting addiction all while disarming him through deep conversations, fucking and draining them. You clean it all up. He makes the mess, you clean it up. 128 messes he made, 128 messes you made disappear all while a family.. or companion, mourned a loss they'd never find. But that's what you were good at, taking care of Louis, coddling him. Fixing. His. Mistakes.

"I'm sorry.." Louis mumbles in a slurred, drugged state, holding your hand with both of his own. "I'm so sorry... i'll do better.." and here comes those bloody tears he can't help but spill, the fragile human in Louis will never died out, never leaving him even in a time of him binging to cope.

Meaningless apology after meaningless apology. The cycle continues and has been for weeks.. months.. years even, you're stuffing a wrapped up body in the trunk of your car, dumping it in the most miniscule of places, scrubbing the floors with enough chemicals to kill. Coming home to an empty apartment and it's slanted floors, ought to fix that before the two of you sell this place and travel to another state with people to eat.

It'll change, he'll be fine, you'll be fine.. everyone will be fine, soon Louis will realize that you're all he needs, all he should depend on.. either it be.. being his good nurse, the gremlin.. or something else entirely.