Page 146 of Discordant Cultivation

Call me ASAP

Burt Niemens – Two Suns

We had an office betting pool on this, you owe me $2k wtf?

Vale scrolled through dozens of messages expressing concern, curiosity, and barely disguised schadenfreude. But two messages stood out from the digital noise:

Anderson

Saw the stream. Hope the kid’s okay. Postponing the Vander meeting until he’s recovered.

Maybe there’s more humanity in him than I thought.

But the next message froze Vale’s blood:

Unknown

Was your new victim that shaky before you snatched him or did you find a way to be even more fucked up? Enjoy the spotlight.

Vale’s hands tightened on the phone, rage building in his chest like a physical thing. The accusation was designed to plant seeds of doubt about causation, to suggest that his methods had somehow induced Kieran’s epilepsy rather than simply working around it.

You pathetic, bitter failure. Still trying to destroy what you were never strong enough to understand.

But even as fury consumed him, Vale recognized the strategy behind Alex’s timing. The public was already questioning the nature of their relationship after seeing such intimate carebroadcast live. Alex’s accusations would find fertile ground in an audience primed for scandal and speculation.

This is exactly what he’s been waiting for. The perfect moment to position himself as the concerned whistleblower exposing an abusive producer.

“Vale?” Kieran’s voice was stronger now, post-ictal confusion fading into more familiar anxiety. “Are–are you m-mad at me?.”

Vale looked down to find Kieran watching him with worried brown eyes, reading his expression with the hypervigilance that made hiding emotional responses impossible.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Vale said, forcing his features into something approaching calm. “Just rest for now. I’ll be here.”

But even as Kieran’s eyes drifted closed, Vale’s attention returned to his phone and the digital firestorm that was reshaping their entire public existence. Alex’s accusations were just the beginning. By tomorrow, every industry blog would be running speculation pieces about their relationship, their methods, the reality behind Thorn and Bloom and Valerian Rose.

Let them speculate. Let them theorize and investigate and draw their own conclusions. They’ll never understand what we actually are to each other.

The mask is gone now. But you’re still mine, and I’m still yours. Nothing else matters.

47

Notes on the devil's violin; Salvation wrapped in sin; I think I finally understand what it means to let you in…

Kieran

I’ve had seizures before. I’ve always just gotten back to normal life afterward.

But this time was different, apparently. This time required weeks of enforced stillness while Vale monitored his every movement. It was twelve days of Vale bringing him breakfast with a rose on a tray and “You need to rest, sweetheart” and “The doctor said complete rest, no arguments” delivered in that steady voice that brooked no discussion.

Kieran shifted against the headboard, his guitar balanced across his lap while he scribbled lyrics in the notepad that had become his best friend and worst enemy at times. The melody was simple—embarrassingly simple compared to the complex arrangements they usually developed together—but something about basic chord progressions felt right for what he was trying to express.

It was just a song. Nothing complicated. Nothing that requires bleeding, or electrical stimulation, or bruises.

The verses came easily enough, honest observations about finding safety in dangerous places and learning to trust handsthat had hurt him, about the way Vale’s sharp attention somehow felt softer than any manufactured gentleness he’d ever known. But every time he reached the chorus, his throat would close up, words stuttering and catching in ways that meant they weren’t right yet.

Why can’t I just say what I feel? Why does everything have to be so fucking complicated?

His fingers found the chord progression again, the tips of his fingers wrapped in gauze since Vale decided it was time to let his nails heal. He had to wear them all the time now.