( Louis nods, then pulls back by a bare few inches, looking Lestat in the eyes and nodding once more. It's a bit firmer this time, an attempt to convince himself as much as to convince Lestat.

He can understand Lestat's past reticence a little better in this moment, when revealing something so personal seems nearly impossible, no matter how his soul aches to be soothed and understood. Louis had always yearned for Lestat to be honest with him, to share even the smallest truths about himself... so why is he so afraid that Lestat will think his troubles are a burden now? )

I'm sorry. I don't know what's come over me.

( But that's a lie, and he looks remorseful as soon as the words leave his mouth. He stiffens, then admits, quietly: )

It began just like this. I ran to you, and the two of us embraced, and...

That's how it happened. You told me to drink, and I did, and I didn't stop until it was too late. You were gone, and I'd done it to you. I know how absurd that must sound, like a child frightened of a monster beneath his bed — I don't think such a thing is even possible for us —

( And he feels defensive suddenly, his shoulders lifting in plain discomfort. )

But I experienced it nevertheless.