Chapter 43 #2
Kieran nodded, taking a moment to watch Vale walk away before turning his attention back to the computer.
He minimized the YouTube tab and opened Instagram to check his notifications.
His feed had been completely transformed since going viral—no more random street performer content or seizure awareness posts.
Everything was curated around the Thorn aesthetic, from fan art to reaction videos to endless speculation about who was in the ‘Temple’ video and who Bloom might be.
He didn’t create any of the content he actually posted.
That was all handled by Eliza, and she was really good at it.
She always seemed to know the right captions to use, the right images, how to ride the right trends.
He honestly appreciated how much she did for him, even if Vale did still grumble about her choice to leave his seizure in the video.
A comment caught his eye, this one addressing him directly:
amberleesings
hey thorn, i have a bad stutter too but it still shows up when i sing sometimes. any tips for performing with it?
Kieran’s thumb hovered over the reply button, then started typing:
THORN.official
it took a lot of experimenting to figure out how i could perform without stuttering.
that’s why my style shifts between singing and rapping and spoken word - it helps keep my mouth “confused” so the stutter doesn’t have time to kick in.
every voice is different though, so just keep trying new approaches until something clicks
The response felt good, genuine, like he was connecting with someone who understood a specific struggle. Kieran was still smiling when a new message notification popped up at the top of his screen.
A.T.
I know Bloom is Vale Rose.
Kieran paused over the notification. Probably just another fan who’d figured out the connection. He almost dismissed it, but curiosity made him tap through to the messages.
A.T.
I know what he’s doing.
A.T.
I know you’re not just filming videos in that basement, Thorn.
Kieran felt sick as he read the messages again, looking for some innocent interpretation that his panicking mind was missing.
Who is A.T.? How do they know about the basement?
Another message appeared as he watched:
A.T.
Has he made you sing with the bag on your head yet?
Kieran whimpered, scooting backward on the couch like the laptop might reach out and grab him. His thumb found his mouth automatically, his teeth tearing at his damaged cuticle until he tasted blood.
The hood. They know about the hood sessions. They know about—
Did I do something wrong? Did I post something I shouldn’t have? Did I accidentally reveal something in an interview or a video?
Vale was still in the kitchen refilling his coffee.
His teeth found more skin on his thumb, biting down hard enough to draw blood that pooled around his nail. The pain gave him something to focus on besides the terrifying possibility that someone knew…
No. It’s nothing. A troll.
Kieran knew the name Alex Thayer—Vander had mentioned him at the networking event. The initials would fit. But A.T. could be anyone. It could be some random stalker who’d pieced together details from public videos. Or maybe a rival of Vale’s? Did Vale have rivals? He seemed to hate Nox…
The hood sessions weren’t public. No one should know about those except—
Had Vale done this before? With other people?
But that would mean…
Another message appeared:
A.T.
You don’t have to keep pretending this is normal. I can help you.
Help me? Help me do what?
Kieran’s hands shook as he closed the laptop, his heart hammering against his ribs as panic flooded his system. The taste of metal filled his mouth and his left ear began to ring.
No. Not now. I can’t seize now. Vale will ask what’s wrong and I’ll have to tell him and I’ll disappoint him again and—
But even as Kieran tried to calm his breathing, tried to push down the panic with techniques Vale had taught him, his mind kept circling back to those messages.
Someone knew. Someone was watching. Someone wanted to “help” him, which meant they thought he needed help, which meant they thought what Vale was doing was wrong.
They don’t understand. They don’t understand that I need this. That I can’t create without it. That this is just what it takes.
The rationalization felt hollow even as Kieran repeated it to himself. Not because he didn’t believe it, he did, but because someone outside their carefully constructed world was trying to reframe his reality, and the intrusion felt violating in ways he couldn’t articulate.
His fingers found his left eye, his thumb and forefinger tugging at his eyelashes with a light stinging pain that made him feel like he could breathe.
Three eyelashes came out between his fingers. He stared at them for a moment before tucking them carefully into the pocket of his pajama pants, collecting the evidence of his own unraveling like it was some kind of twisted inventory.
Vale would notice eventually. Vale always noticed. But for now, Kieran could hide the A.T. messages and the escalating panic and the way his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
I won’t disappoint him again.
Friday. I’m recording with Jericho on Friday. I’ll record the song, and I’ll show Vale what I’ve learned. Everything will be fine.
The plan felt important, urgent, like if he could just demonstrate how thoroughly he’d absorbed Vale’s education, everything else would make sense. The A.T. messages would be revealed as nothing, the panic would settle, the broken parts of him would align properly within the framework Vale built.
Everything would be fine.