king of brainrot

It's almost cute— Lestat, his big, bad wolf, laying on the floor on his stomach in his striped pajamas, playing with the train set Daniel and Armand gave them for Christmas or flipping through old magazines to find pictures to cut out and glue into chaotic collages that will find their way into the drawer where Louis keeps all of his Lestat memorabilia, safe from any future versions of Lestat who might want to throw them away. He's quieter like this, and he lets Louis play with his hair as much as he likes.

The hardest part is that when Lestat is small, he doesn't remember that his sister is gone.

"When will Claudia be home?" he'll ask as he uncaps a glue stick, a throwaway question, no weight to it at all.

At first, Louis had tried to explain to him, gently, that Claudia was dead. Lestat hadn't reacted with anger or sorrow or even confusion— he'd just kicked his feet and asked again, "When will Claudia be home?" It was as if he couldn't hear the words.

Louis had done some reading after that. A lot of reading, actually. Funnily enough, it wasn't anything about dissociation or trauma that had helped him in the end. Frustrated, out of ideas, he'd picked up at random a book about dementia.

"When discussing a diseased family member," the book had said, "it is best not to lie to your loved one, but trying to remind them that a lost loved one is gone is likely to cause agitation and confusion. Instead, ask them questions about their loved one. Reminiscing will help your family member to feel connected both to you and to those they have lost."

So that's what he does now; he encourages reminiscing.

"What are your favorite things to do with your sister?" he asks, or, "What is your favorite thing about your sister?" or, "What do you think your sister would want to do if she were here right now?"

His voice almost always cracks on the questions, but Lestat doesn't seem to notice.

"I like to play chess with my sister," he might say, or, "My favorite thing about my sister is that she is the best hunter in the world," or, "If my sister were here right now we wouldn't be at home, we'd be out in the park, listening to people's thoughts and laughing at their silly human troubles. Can we go to the park, Louis?"