Page 188 of Discordant Cultivation

“I love you t-too,” Kieran whispered.

Tomorrow, there would be consequences. Bodies to move, stories to construct, a life to rebuild around the cracks.

But for tonight, Vale stayed put and held the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

60

I simply showed you how to love the cracks within your skin, to wear them like a crown…

Kieran

The black lilies were thriving in their new location, petals unfurling in the controlled environment of the greenhouse like dark silk against emerald leaves. Kieran knelt beside the raised plant bed, his notebook balanced on his knee as he hummed through the bridge section of ‘The Argument’ one more time.

“I’m n-nervous about tonight,” he told the flowers, his voice barely above a whisper in the humid air. “I’ve run the setlist every day until my fingers know it b-better than my own name.”

The lilies didn’t respond, but their presence felt comforting.

“The album’s doing really w-well,” Kieran continued, adjusting a chord progression in his notebook. “Number three on the charts last week. Vale says that’s incredible for an independent r-release.” He paused, his pencil hovering over the page. “I recorded a fun video for ‘Descent’ last week. I didn’t have to c-cry for that one. We filmed it in an abandoned building, it h-had cool graf-graffiti in it.”

The memory should have felt lighter.

“I’m sad the only video we got t-together was the one where we were both bleeding,” he whispered to the dark petals. “But it’s still a b-beautiful song if I close my eyes. I won’t perform it without you, I p-promise.”

Don’t. Don’t think about it.

He redirected his attention to the lilies, counting petals until the ache receded.

A breeze stirred through the greenhouse, artificial circulation that Vale had installed to keep the plants healthy. Kieran closed his eyes and let it wash over him, imagining for just a moment that it was Jericho’s breath, her voice harmonizing with his own lyrics about falling and flying and the price of reaching too close to the sun.

“I didn’t know your legal name was Alyssa until the d-detectives came,” he said softly, guilt making his voice crack. “They showed Vale your picture, asked if we’d seen you.” He opened his eyes, staring at the lilies that grew from soil enriched with what remained of her. “But Jericho fit you b-better. More musical.”

He sighed. “The song I’ve been working on, it’s really special. I think you would have understood what it m-means, why I had to write it.” His fingers tapped a rhythm against the notebook, counting beats in his head as his fingers itched to drift towards his face. “Maybe you can hear it anyway. Maybe that’s how this w-works.”

He looked down at the lilies again and froze.

Blood. Dark crimson droplets scattered across the black petals like paint flicked from a brush. His notebook slipped from his knee as his hands clenched into fists.

The sound echoed in his skull—sharp, final, exactly like the SNAP of her neck when she’d hit the stairs. Kieran squeezed his eyes shut, but the echo bounced between his ears, multiplying until it became a symphony of breaking.

His hands found his throat, fingers pressing against his windpipe until the rumbling in his ears gradually faded.

“S-Sorry,” he whispered, eyes still closed, voice rough from the pressure. “I’m sorry. That still h-happens sometimes.”

He kept his eyes shut as he continued, afraid to look at the petals again. “After the concert, Vale and I are going to see the ocean. I’ve never seen it b-before, and he found this beautiful house right on the beach. I rented it myself—well, Vale showed me how to use his credit card to d-do it. He’s been so much more relaxed since Nox started that rumor.”

The words came easier with his eyes closed, like confession in a dark booth. “About you and Alex sh-shooting heroin together. That’s why you both disappeared, apparently. Vale says it was brilliant—gave the detectives a reason to stop looking so hard. They figure you’re both dead in some alley s-somewhere.” Kieran’s voice cracked. “The media hasn’t picked it up yet, thank god. But I’m sorry such an awful rumor is going around about you. You d-deserved better.”

His throat felt raw, whether from the choking or the admission, he couldn’t tell. “I’m sorry I p-pushed you. I’m sorry I killed you. I’m sorry you’re feeding flowers instead of m-making music.”

He pushed the memory down where it couldn’t reach him.

Kieran opened his eyes cautiously, expecting to see blood scattered across the dark petals again. But they were clean, pristine black silk against green leaves. Except—

One petal had fallen. A single piece of black velvet lying on the soil like a tiny funeral shroud.

“Oh n-no,” Kieran whispered, tears welling in his eyes without warning. “Oh no, oh no—”

He scrambled closer to the plant, his hands hovering over the fallen petal as panic built in his chest. Had he overwatered?Underwatered? Was the greenhouse too humid, too dry, too something he should have known how to prevent?