Chapter Text
Fall, 2025
Lestat pats his pockets once to check for his keys, dragging his hand through his long hair and mussing it up. He’s uncharacteristically nervous, but then the situation demands it. He stalls by the door wasting time, rocking on the balls of his feet, just then the chime on his phone rings out:
9PM
Talamasca Appointment
He takes a deep breath as he leaves the house broken hearted for the last time.
He hails a taxi despite the peak hour traffic fare. The doctors had asked him not to drive himself incase he experienced any disorientation or dizziness on the drive back, though that is usually a really uncommon side effect, he was assured. It is a safe and effective procedure, proven by dozens of clinical trials and success stories of thousands of people who have undergone it. Including Louis.
He only got to know of this through Daniel, their mutual friend who also worked at Talamasca Inc. Well, he was technically more Louis’ friend, but years of back and forth being the messenger between a feuding couple would strike a kinship between anyone. He caught up with Daniel over lunch one day on his invitation, which was his first clue that something was off. He hoped against hope it might be a message from Louis, desperate for any word from him after months of no contact at all. But he couldn’t have anticipated what Daniel told him in his wildest dreams. Louis was getting his memories erased. Or more specifically, getting him erased.
Talamasca Inc. was a multibillion techno-pharmaceutical corporation that had a major breakthrough a few years ago when they patented mind altering technology that could influence and erase memories selectively. It could be just a particular event, or a person or object you wanted erased. Their state of the art machinery would go inside the recesses of your mind and identify the memories and snap those particular synapses from existence, disconnecting their link from the rest of your conscious brain. Your brain functions would remain unaltered, but it would be like those memories never existed. It was controversial and expensive, but the procedure became a huge sensation shortly after being publicly available. Psychologists and academics were divided, part of them supporting the endeavour for it's potential use on severely traumatised patients while the others debated the ethics of invading a person’s mind.
When Daniel told him Louis had already undergone the procedure just a few days ago, Lestat felt a wave of emotions. Shock. Anger. Pain. Sadness. It had only been ten months since their breakup, seemingly the final one this time, and Louis was ready to erase all memories associated with their relationship. He hated Lestat so much, he’d rather erase a decade of his life into an eerie, spotless slate than remember him at all. He felt numb then, being the target of such disdain. His heart broke and simultaneously solidified, fortifying against pain the best way it knew how, by doubling down on anger and impulsivity.
He doesn’t remember the rest of the lunch. He doesn’t remember the drive home, shaking fingers pulling up the Talamasca’s reception number on his phone, quivering voice asking for an appointment. He was asked to come in a week for a physical and psychological examination. He stayed up at nights talking himself in and out of it, making and tossing pros and cons lists on paper napkins. Every time his resolve weakened, he thought of Louis; beautiful, strange, cruel Louis deciding to forget him as easily as snapping a thread. He should do it too. Besides, what was the harm in just getting an eval? It’s not like they’d be erasing his mind right that instant. Plus he might get to know if something was actually wrong with him. He hadn’t been to a doctor in forever and this was his perfect excuse of a checkup.
The tests were done, and he was disappointed to be declared perfectly physically and mentally fit to undergo any medical procedure in the world. He was placed on a waitlist, a slot booked for his procedure a month after the tests. His initial anger and impulsiveness subsided into agitation and self-destruction, and he steeled himself to go through with the procedure. Why should he suffer while Louis forgets? Months spent staring at walls, pushing half his belongings into far off shelves and drawers that reminded him of Louis, almost calling him, waiting for his call, wondering if he’d ever hear from him again. Knowing he wouldn't. Convincing himself he didn't even want to, they're better off this way. All this while Louis was planning to cut him off forever from his life, chase out even the shadow of him from his mind. Louis has already forgotten him by now probably, would not even recognise Lestat if he stood in front of him. The thought sends painful shockwaves throughout his body, his chest almost caving at the thought alone.
Louis has forgotten him. So he’ll forget Louis too.
Head swirling with possibilities and stomach in knots, he reaches the clinic and makes his way to the assigned floor. The doctor and staff greet him and he tries to subtly wipe his sweaty palm on his tshirt to hide his nervousness.
He is shown to a temperature controlled room with a weird tube like chamber inside, much like an MRI machine. The doctor instructs him to lie inside and connects various tubes and electrodes to his head, arms and chest, monitoring various different vitals and signals of his body. The sensation of the tube poking in his brain makes it feel all too real now, this is it. There is no going back. He is going to let strangers intrude his mind and snatch away the dearest, rawest, most painful parts of him. Will he be better? Can you somehow be sawed off and come out the other side whole? It’s too late to ponder these things as the doctor administers an amber fluid through the IV attached to his arm.
“We’ll start the process from the back, from your latest memory.” He explains to Lestat once more while waiting for the drug to work. “Directly accessing deeper parts of the brain can be shocking and we might encounter resistance, so we’ll work our way latest to earliest, erasing the memories as we go back in time. You will be under a sleep drug which won’t interfere with any other mental process but sharpen these specific memories so we can pick them out. We will be able to see and record them as they play in your brain, and pick and erase them individually. By the time you wake up tomorrow, they’ll all be gone. Like it never happened.”
Like it never happened.
Lestat swallows audibly as the words sink in. There is no time for the panic to set in as his eyes slowly close under the influence of the drug, lulling him to peaceful sleep.