Page 103 of Discordant Cultivation

“I’m g-going to perform,” Kieran announced. “T-tonight. This song.”

Vale’s hands squeezed his knees. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m alr-ready dressed. I have a song.” Kieran’s voice carried conviction that surprised him, cutting through the hoarseness and the stutter that wanted to catch on every consonant. “I n-need to do this.”

“Kieran, you just— what happened in here—” Vale’s expression was flat, but something darker flickered underneath. “You’re in no condition to perform.”

Kieran turned to Jericho, who was watching their exchange with bright-eyed curiosity. “C-can you read m-music? Or at l-least improvise harmonies?”

“I can harmonize with anything,” she said immediately, excitement building in her voice despite the heaviness of the room. “Just don’t ask me to do soprano or falsetto. My range is—”

“I n-need an alto.” Kieran nodded, mostly to himself. The echoes of Nox’s hand covering his mouth and nose burned hisskin, but he could feel it tingling, numbing as he translated the burn into corresponding chords in his head. “For the—the bridge. The harmonies n-need to be lower. Can you d-do that?”

“Yes.” Jericho leaned forward, fully engaged. “Absolutely. What’s the melody?”

Kieran hummed the bridge, watching her face light up as she found the harmony. Her voice was rich and textured, exactly what the song needed.

“Perfect,” Kieran breathed. “That’s exactly—yes.”

Vale just stared at him with something between concern and fascination. “What are you doing? Coming up with a duet on the fly after—”

“I g-got this,” Kieran interrupted, meeting Vale’s gaze steadily.This is how I push back.“I kn-know what I’m doing.”

Jericho stood abruptly. “I should change before we do this. Get out of this fucking Flake costume. And I should probably run it by my manager too, make sure I’m not breaking any contracts by performing with you.” She paused. “What should I dress like? For the aesthetic?”

“Whatever you w-want,” Kieran said without hesitation. “What would Jericho want t-to look like on stage? N-not Flake. You.”

Her entire face transformed, a smile breaking through the tear-stained makeup. “Do you have any extra gauze? And can I wear your jacket?”

Vale helped Kieran shrug out of his jacket and held out the spare gauze roll. She grabbed both and headed for the door with renewed purpose. “Give me ten minutes,” she called over her shoulder.

The door closed behind her, leaving Kieran alone with Vale.

The silence stretched heavy between them. Vale was still kneeling beside the couch, supplies scattered around him, hands resting on his thighs. His eyes moved over Kieran’s face.

“You want to perform. Right now. Tonight. After what just happened to you.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Because if I don’t make this mean something, I’ll break.

“B-because I have the song,” Kieran said instead.

Vale was watching him with that expression Kieran had learned to recognize over two months of captivity—the look that meant Vale understood something Kieran hadn’t articulated, was reading subtext Kieran hadn’t consciously written or said aloud.

“You want to make it mean something,” Vale said, and it wasn’t a question. He moved closer, settling onto the couch beside Kieran. One hand came up to cup Kieran’s face, his thumb brushing just below the split lip with feather-light pressure. “You’re in pain, and you need it to transform into something. To make it serve a purpose.”

Yes. God, yes. That’s exactly it.

“If I d-do this,” Kieran said desperately, “then it—it matters…instead of being—”

“Just violence,” Vale finished.

Kieran nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in his throat.

Vale’s smile was soft, almost tender, with that edge of darkness Kieran associated with approval. “That’s my beautiful boy” His hand slid into Kieran’s hair, gripping gently.