Page 153 of Discordant Cultivation

It was scary. They all are, honestly. But I was glad he was there with my medicine.

JerichoMakesMusic

Is he always there? Like... do you have other people around? Friends, family?

His fingers moved before he could stop them:

It’s complicated. Foster care growing up. Vale’s... he’s everything now.

Send.

Immediate regret filled him.

JerichoMakesMusic

I’m glad you have someone. And hey, I’m here too if you ever want to talk. About music or anything.

Kieran closed the laptop.

The laptop sat open on the coffee table, volume muted but notifications visible. He’d been checking it between vocal exercises, refreshing Instagram more often than he wanted to admit, waiting for Jericho to respond to his last message about harmony structures.

A new notification appeared. Kieran stopped mid-phrase and sat down on the couch, clicking it open.

What he found was longer than expected—paragraphs instead of a quick response. His eyes scanned quickly, then slower, then had to read it again because the words felt too heavy to absorb the first time.

Jericho was talking about opiate addiction.Heropiate addiction.

He had no idea.

JerichoMakesMusic

I was so isolated. No one to talk to who’d understand. Everyone just wanted me performing, wanted me functional, but no one wanted to help me heal.

Kieran’s throat felt tight. He read it three times, trying to figure out what to say, how to respond to something so raw and honest from someone he barely knew.

“Everything okay?”

He jerked, looking up to find Vale in the doorway, just staring at him like he sometimes did.

“Y-yeah, just—Jericho shared something heavy.”

Vale crossed the room, settling beside him on the couch. His eyes moved to the laptop screen, reading quickly. “About her addiction?”

Kieran’s eyes widened. “You knew?”

“It was public when she left her first label. It was a very messy split. She did an interview about it—criticizing the industry’s treatment of artists with substance issues.” Vale’s hand settled on Kieran’s shoulder, warm and grounding. “I’m glad she trusts you enough to share it.”

The words felt like permission. Kieran leaned into the touch slightly and started typing his response, aware of Vale reading over his shoulder.

Thank you for sharing that with me. That sounds terrifying. I’m glad you made it through.

Vale squeezed his shoulder. “You’re a good friend, sweetheart.”

Kieran closed the laptop, the weight of the conversation sitting heavy in his chest. She’d been isolated and hurting, and no one seemed to want to help her. Kieran knew that pain—that suffocating, slow drown, treading water and hoping someone would save him. He was lucky. Vale noticed him and helped him out of that place. Vale took care of him.

He was lucky.

The laptop sat open on the bed beside him, its glow the only light in the darkened bedroom while Vale showered. Kieran hadbeen reading Jericho’s latest message for five minutes, his chest getting tighter with each pass.