Page 155 of Discordant Cultivation

He laid back down, careful not to wake Vale. The arm that had been around him earlier automatically settled back across his chest, heavy and warm and protective.

This is just some random person online trying to stir up trouble. It doesn’t mean anything.

But Kieran still couldn’t sleep. And when Vale’s alarm went off at seven, he pretended he’d been asleep the whole time.

“Hands.”

The gauze wrappings were a familiar ritual by now—Vale’s hands careful and precise as he wound the white gauze around Kieran’s fingers and hands, covering the healing nail beds and fading cuticle damage.

Kieran watched in the mirror. His shoulder still ached and the marks on his arms from two days ago were still visible—bruises in the shape of Vale’s fingers where he’d been held down during a particularly intense “reminder lesson”, as Vale called them. They’d fade in a few more days.

“Throat,” Vale said, and Kieran tilted his head back so Vale could remove his collar.

The gauze went on smoothly, Vale’s fingers brushing against his pulse point as he wrapped. Kieran’s eyes drifted closed. This part always felt intimate in a way that had nothing to do with the physical touch—Vale taking care of him, protectinghim, preparing him for the world outside their controlled environment.

“There.” Vale’s hands settled on his shoulders, both of them looking at Kieran’s reflection. The gauze was visible at his throat and hands, and a big black hoodie covered everything else, his hair slightly messy, but artfully so. This was their carefully constructed “casual Thorn” look. Not fully wrapped, but enough so potential photos wouldn’t catch the bruises that lived in Kieran’s skin.

Kieran smiled despite the lingering anxiety from last night’s message. “I’m excited.”

“You should be. You’re both incredibly talented.” Vale kissed his cheek. “Ready?”

“Ready,” he said.

Vale’s hand settled on the back of his neck, warm and grounding. “You’re going to be brilliant, sweetheart.”

Kieran leaned back into the touch, letting it calm the nervous energy thrumming under his skin. Everything was fine. Today was just recording with Jericho. Everything was exactly as it should be.

The A.T. message sat unanswered in his Instagram inbox.

He’d deal with it later. Or never. Probably never.

Vale’s hand tightened slightly on his neck, and Kieran let his eyes close. Everything was fine.

It had to be fine.

50

Safety's just a boundary that I've learned to call my home…

Kieran

The recording booth was larger than Vale’s home studio, glass separating them from the control room where Vale stood beside the engineer. Kieran adjusted his headphones while Jericho settled on the stool beside him, both of them positioned at their respective microphones. He had the option of recording separately, but the whole experience of recording a song on his own was still weird, he couldn’t imagine trying to harmonize a duet completely separated from the other voice.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Vale’s voice came through the headphones.

They started the first take. Kieran’s voice found the higher register while Jericho anchored below, and by the time they reached the second verse, Kieran felt his throat tighten with the threat of tears, the lyrics still too raw and too honest.

“That’s good,” Vale said through the headphones. “Again. Let the vulnerability show more in the bridge.”

They ran it three more times.

“Vale, is it okay to st-stop so I can get some water, p-please?” Kieran asked into the microphone, his throat feeling raw as he wiped tears from his face.

“Of course,” Vale said. “Take five. Both of you.”

They stepped out of the booth. Jericho handed him a water bottle from the table, watching him drink with an expression Kieran couldn’t quite read.

“You don’t have to ask permission for that,” she said quietly. “You can just... tell him you’re taking a break when you need one.”