( Louis lets out a quick, slightly trembling breath, as much from Lestat's sweet insistent closeness as from the question and the feelings that it stirs in him. Memories gather around him, and he presses back against Lestat, solid and real, to fend them off. Thoughts of that vampire bar in San Francisco where he'd sat for hours watching Lestat's videos, all the undead world abuzz in rumors and threats. He had been thankful that no one knew his face. )

Oh, I listened over and over, wondering whether any of them were about me in any way, whether I had left enough of a mark on your heart for that. I was rather obsessed.

( He hesitates, tensing a little, fingers twitching on Lestat's knee. )

... Did you actually write songs for me?