Page 143 of Discordant Cultivation

“I love that,” Dr. Sam said, making a note that somehow didn’t feel clinical. “There’s something beautiful about artists who maintain those personal touchstones. It keeps the work grounded in such an authentic experience rather than just technique.”

The word ‘authentic’ should have triggered anxiety about lessons and controlled breaking, but Dr. Sam’s version felt different—warmer, less loaded with implications about what authenticity required.

“How long have you and Bloom been working together?” she asked. “Your chemistry suggests a really established creative partnership.”

“A while,” Kieran said carefully. “He f-found me when I was just doing street performances. He s-saw something in my m-music that I didn’t know was there and helped me develop it.”

“That’s wonderful. There’s clearly a lot of trust between you two—the way he talked about the emotional aspect of your work earlier, it’s obvious he really believes in you.”

Does he? I should believe that. He reminds me everyday that I’m creating something beautiful. Have I ever believed him?

Oh God, does that mean I think he’s lying to me?

Vale wouldn’t lie to me.

“What’s your songwriting process like? Do you—”

46

There's my beautiful broken bird, there's my truth-telling dove; Now you remember what it means to be in proper love…

Vale

Vale’s phone buzzed with another anonymous text, the fourteenth one in the past hour. He deleted it without reading, the same way he’d been handling Alex’s increasingly desperate attempts at contact for the past three days. Alex’s messages had escalated beyond his usual grievances into something that looked disturbingly like stalking, but Vale wanted to handle it quietly. His way.

Pathetic. Still trying to get my attention after all this time.

But his irritation faded as he glanced up at Kieran in the interview chair, watching his face transform with a shy smile that made Vale’s stomach flip as he talked about his process. There was something luminous about him when he discussed creating music—a lightness that made him impossibly beautiful, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

Another buzz from his phone, this one showing Nox’s name instead of the number Alex had been using. Vale’s finger hovered over the delete button, but curiosity made him open the message instead.

Anderson

Collaboration opportunity for Thorn. Vander Moss interested in joint project - acoustic/rock fusion. Kid connected with him at the event. Could be mutually beneficial. Let me know if interested.

Vale’s jaw tightened. The thought of Nox anywhere near Kieran again made his skin crawl, but the professional opportunity was undeniably significant. Vander Moss from Midnight Reverie collaborating with an emerging artist could open doors that would take years to reach otherwise.

And it would make Kieran happy. He lit up when Vander talked to him at the networking event.

Vale typed back quickly:

Schedule meeting with Eliza for Friday afternoon. I’m taking Thorn to dinner afterward - celebration for completing the Jericho duet.

The dinner plan had been forming in his mind for weeks, an elaborate evening designed specifically to make Kieran smile. Reservations at a simple restaurant where they could talk, then maybe a walk along the riverfront if Kieran’s energy held up. Vale wanted to see him write something happy for once. He wanted to nurture the lighter emotions that his methods sometimes obscured.

You deserve gentleness too, beautiful boy. You deserve evenings that don’t require bleeding for me.

A sudden scraping sound pulled Vale’s attention back to the interview setup. Kieran was pushing his chair back from the microphone and camera.

What’s wrong? What triggered—

But before Vale could process what he was seeing, Kieran fell back into the chair, rigid. His eyes rolled upward and to the left,pupils fixed on nothing, while his hands drew inward toward his chest.

No.

Kieran’s body began the subtle jerking motions—small, rhythmic spasms accompanied by soft grunting sounds that seemed impossibly quiet for something so devastating. This one wasn’t dramatic…it was subtle. Deadly quiet.

Terrifying.