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Summary
The arena was too loud.
Louis felt the bass before he properly heard it, the vibrations rising through concrete and steel to settle unpleasantly beneath his ribs. White lights swept endlessly over the crowd below, catching glitter, sweat, upturned faces shining with the particular ecstasy of mortals permitted proximity to something beautiful enough to ruin them. They screamed themselves ragged for a vampire who had once played piano for Louis through his large iPad screen, candlelight wavering gold across his face while rain battered the windows of his Montreal apartment.
It still unsettled him sometimes, seeing Lestat like this. Not the fame, because Lestat had always required attention the way fire required oxygen. What disturbed him was the scale of it. The noise. The sheer appetite of it all. The complete surrender of himself to spectacle.
or
After months of mutual avoidance, Louis attends a Vampire Lestat concert and confronts the man behind the performance.