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Lestat reacted to triggers differently. Sometimes he shut down completely leaving him shaking with weak cries. At other times he was like a hurricane destroying everything in his way including Louis trying to help him.No wonder, if it was to Daniel he would sue him with domestic violence alligations. But again it wasn't about the scarce bruises Louis had from time to time. It was about Lestat and his ever so existent hauting traumas.
Louis only got the concept about all that happened with his husband. Details were left out of the conversation more often than not, and this very vell meant unintended triggers arising from any innocent situation. Like today...
Louis stirred to the gentle noise in their bedroom. It was his husband getting out of their bed probably trapped by all their sheets.
"..you okay?" croaked Louis trying to see his lover’s figure in the dark.
"y-yeah go back to sleep" came the anwer instantly. It was reassuring enough for Louis not to follow him. He's been doing better with nightmares lately, nowadays only having a smoke on their balcony and then coming back to bed. Except it wasn't the case this time. Lestat didn't return, not even after hours.
Louis woke up as if lightning had gone through his body, realising Lestat had left God knows when. He blinked at their bedside table only to read 3:26 on the clock. It was still the dead of night, pitch black outside.
Every possible horror scenario ran through his head. He instantly ran to the empty bathroom, no trace of Lestat, nor the kitchen, or their living room.
Stepping into the living room, he noticed the open balcony door, curtains flowing like ghosts into the room.
He rushed toward the door, sighing with relief, hearing his husbands quiet sobbing.
Lestat was curled up on their bench, hugging knees to their chest.
"Hey, Baby, are you okay? What happened?" asked Louis and immediately as he went to his knees next to the blonde, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was going on.
Lestat was shaking his head as an answer, crying harder, but at least he acknowledged Louis's presence. As every time Louis touched him, only gently putting his hand on Lestat's arm, rubbing it.
"I know I should have come looking for you earlier. I’m so sorry," he noticed their ashtray was full and some burn marks on his husband's arm, fuck.
"Les, Honey, are you with me?" His husband only hurt himself if he was so deeply dissociating or having flashbacks that he couldn't get out of them, only emerging to grab something to hurt himself.
Lestat slowly looked up, not looking directly at him, only at his hand on his arm, shaking violently.
"G..g.." he couldn't continue, staring at Louis’s hand touching him. Louis took his hand off him, so touching was triggering right now. Sometimes it helped with grounding, but this is what his husband's mental state was a whirl of confusion
"It's okay, I won't touch you , no one is hurting you Baby." He kept his composure as much as hecould, but internally he was gagging since G certainly stood for Gabriella.That hell of a so-called mother.
"She's not here, you are in our apartment in New Orleans, you are safe with me Les." Tears started to prick his eyes, too.
So many years later, she is still abusing him in his mind. Louis learned after one of Lestat's therapy sessions that he went with him, that the mind in these scenarios is still trapped in the age at which the abuse happened. Here was his husband, a strong man with an even stronger personality who cannot escape his trauma, not even now.
"I-I can-can't..." he stuttered, finally meeting Louis's eyes
"It is okay Baby, just breathe for now, okay? Don't worry, you're safe."
"Sh-sh-she's w-was here" he stuttered, wiping his eyes with his shaky fingers.
So it either was a really intense nightmare or a flashback.
“She’s gone Baby, she’s already dead, she can’t hurt you anymore, Les.” Louis was a bit reluctant but gently put his hand on his husband’s tear-stained face.
Their eyes met again, and Louis knew Lestat came home for him again, fighted his way through the horrid images of his mind to return again. In better days, Lestat told him about these times, when reality was only a slight echo among the vivid horrors. He was truly outside his body, under the influence of some greater power which held him hostage, not letting him react to anything except fear and terror.
“L-Louis?” came the whispering question
“Yes, I am here, Sweetie.” Louis forced a half-smile, not letting go of Lestat even for a second.
“Please hold m-me.”
And Louis held his husband and kissed the burn marks until the darkness of memories was washed away by the first rays of dawn.