"I think it will be gone when we wake," Louis agreed, straightening upright beside Lestat. "As if it were never here."

Except for the damage. All the damage.

Louis' fingers find the center of Lestat's back. Thinking of all the hurricanes they weathered together. Thinking of their home here, now a stop on a tour and their story mangled and exaggerated.

"But we'll be here."

The pair of them, enduring. Surviving a storm, again.

"I'll be here, I promise," Louis offers, quieter. Wondering if this is what troubles him. The sense of having dreamed their reunion. That he could blink and it would all be gone.