Chapter 46
There's my beautiful broken bird, there's my truth-telling dove; Now you remember what it means to be in proper love…
Vale
Vale’s phone buzzed with another anonymous text, the fourteenth one in the past hour.
He deleted it without reading, the same way he’d been handling Alex’s increasingly desperate attempts at contact for the past three days.
Alex’s messages had escalated beyond his usual grievances into something that looked disturbingly like stalking, but Vale wanted to handle it quietly. His way.
Pathetic. Still trying to get my attention after all this time.
But his irritation faded as he glanced up at Kieran in the interview chair, watching his face transform with a shy smile that made Vale’s stomach flip as he talked about his process.
There was something luminous about him when he discussed creating music—a lightness that made him impossibly beautiful, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
Another buzz from his phone, this one showing Nox’s name instead of the number Alex had been using. Vale’s finger hovered over the delete button, but curiosity made him open the message instead.
Anderson
Collaboration opportunity for Thorn. Vander Moss interested in joint project - acoustic/rock fusion. Kid connected with him at the event. Could be mutually beneficial. Let me know if interested.
Vale’s jaw tightened. The thought of Nox anywhere near Kieran again made his skin crawl, but the professional opportunity was undeniably significant. Vander Moss from Midnight Reverie collaborating with an emerging artist could open doors that would take years to reach otherwise.
And it would make Kieran happy. He lit up when Vander talked to him at the networking event.
Vale typed back quickly:
Schedule meeting with Eliza for Friday afternoon. I’m taking Thorn to dinner afterward - celebration for completing the Jericho duet.
The dinner plan had been forming in his mind for weeks, an elaborate evening designed specifically to make Kieran smile.
Reservations at a simple restaurant where they could talk, then maybe a walk along the riverfront if Kieran’s energy held up.
Vale wanted to see him write something happy for once.
He wanted to nurture the lighter emotions that his methods sometimes obscured.
You deserve gentleness too, beautiful boy. You deserve evenings that don’t require bleeding for me.
A sudden scraping sound pulled Vale’s attention back to the interview setup. Kieran was pushing his chair back from the microphone and camera.
What’s wrong? What triggered—
But before Vale could process what he was seeing, Kieran fell back into the chair, rigid. His eyes rolled upward and to the left, pupils fixed on nothing, while his hands drew inward toward his chest.
No.
Kieran’s body began the subtle jerking motions—small, rhythmic spasms accompanied by soft grunting sounds that seemed impossibly quiet for something so devastating. This one wasn’t dramatic…it was subtle. Deadly quiet.
Terrifying.
Like watching a song skip. Like watching his nervous system fracture into static.
Vale rushed to Kieran’s side, scooping him out of the chair and tucking his seizing body to his chest as he kicked the chair out of the way and lowered them both to the ground.
“I’m here,” he breathed, brushing Kieran’s hair back from his forehead. He checked his pulse (too high), his breathing (too shallow), he felt how hot his skin was getting with each jerk and twitch and grunt. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m right here.”
Vale pulled off his hoodie the same, letting the fabric become an improvised pillow.
He scrambled over to his desk where he had left the rescue medication, feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. Tears stung his eyes.
He thought he’d be used to the sight of Kieran’s seizures now, but he wasn’t.
There was no hurt in his life he could compare to the sight of the light disappearing from Kieran’s eyes.
You’re not allowed to leave me like this. Not when I just found you. Not when I’ve only just learned what it means to love someone.
“It’s okay,” Vale whispered as he rejoined Kieran on the floor, his lips close to Kieran’s ear even though he probably couldn’t hear anything through the electrical storm consuming his brain. “I’ve got you. I’m right here, beautiful. I’m going to stay right here.”
Dr. Sam’s voice came from somewhere far away, thick with tears: “Is he—will he be okay?”
“When did this start?” Vale asked, never taking his eyes off Kieran’s face as he tracked breathing patterns and the progression of spasms like counting measures in a composition for the damned. “When did he start seeming off?”
“Maybe a few minutes ago? I thought he looked pale, but I didn’t want to say anything—”
A few minutes. Dr. Henley said to wait five minutes before administering the medicine, but Dr. Henley could fuck right off with that opinion. Vale was the one watching Kieran turn bright red and foam at the mouth.
Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare leave me when I’ve only just learned how to keep you.
“It’s going to be okay,” Vale whispered as he administered the rescue medication, one hand still cradling Kieran’s head. “There you go, sweetheart. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
It took longer to kick in than last time, but it did kick in. His eyes fluttered shut, his breathing slowly regulated, and the terrifying movements subsided, his arms falling limp to his sides as consciousness began the long process of reassembling itself.
There. Come back to me. You’re safe now.
But as relief calmed the thundering of Vale’s blood, he became aware of his surroundings.
Dr. Sam was crying, her usual joyful composure completely shattered by witnessing something so intimate and terrifying in real time.
The camera equipment still ran, red lights indicating that everything—the seizure, Vale’s unmasked face, his desperate medical intervention and gentle words—had been streamed live to thousands of viewers.
Fuck. The mask. My face. Everyone just saw—
Vale’s hands shook as he looked up at the camera, tears still streaming down his cheeks in ways that revealed more emotional vulnerability than he’d ever shown publicly.
His identity, his relationship with Kieran, the reality of their dynamic—everything was exposed now, broadcast to an audience that expected a simple interview.
“Dr. Sam,” he choked out. “Please turn off the stream. I’ll be in touch later to explain.”
“Oh god,” she breathed, fumbling with her equipment as the reality of the situation hit her. “I’m so sorry—I was scared, I forgot—I didn’t mean to keep recording—”
The feed finally went dark, but Vale knew the damage was done.
Thousands of people just watched Valerian Rose’s face reveal itself as he whispered desperate, sweet words while administering emergency medication to Thorn.
After there was already so much speculation out there around who it was helping him in the ‘Temple of Flesh’ video…
But as Kieran’s breathing continued to stabilize in his hands, Vale found he didn’t care about exposure or consequences or the control he’d just sacrificed for public consumption. All that mattered was Kieran.
I’d do it again. I’d burn my entire world down if it meant keeping you safe.
Vale didn’t move. He cradled Kieran’s head in his lap, whispering for him to come back, that he loved him, that needed him, that he would die without him, all while tears and snot made a fool of him.
He waited.
And waited.
And waited.
“Vale?” Kieran’s voice was thick, disoriented, as his eyes roaming around through cracked eyelids like he couldn’t focus.
“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m right here.” Vale kept his voice low and steady, quickly wiping away the shameful moisture that marred his face so he wouldn’t scare Kieran.
Kieran tried to sit up, his eyes wide with panic. “The interview—Dr. Sam—d-did I ruin everything?”
“Easy.” Vale’s hands were gentle but firm, pushing Kieran back down despite his struggles. “Don’t try to get up yet. You need to rest.”
“But the st-stream was live—” Kieran’s breathing quickened as he fought against Vale’s restraint, trying to push himself upright.
“Kieran, stop. Lie down.” The command carried enough authority to cut through his post-seizure confusion, and Kieran’s body went still. “I’m going to call the doctor. You’re not moving until he clears you.”
Vale’s phone had been buzzing so frequently in his pocket it was making the skin beneath his pants pocket numb.
They can wait.
Dr. Henley arrived within two hours of Vale’s call, his usual professional calm intact despite being summoned for an emergency house visit. Vale moved reluctantly away from Kieran’s side, feeling like a caged beast as he paced inside the room.
“Breakthrough seizures,” Dr. Henley said as he approached Vale. “Likely triggered by stress and sleep deprivation. The Versed worked well for the tonic-clonic episode, but you mentioned he’s been having more myoclonic jerks, and he’s reporting an increase in sensory focal seizures.”
“An increase?” Vale felt his stomach drop. “He…he hasn’t mentioned that to me.”
“His records indicate his previous baseline was about one focal seizure per day and one tonic-clonic every two months. He’s had one almost every month for the last four months, and based on what he told me, he’s having clustered focal seizures for several hours a day, I’m estimating forty to sixty.
We need to adjust his Keppra dosage again,” the doctor continued, making notes in his tablet.
“I also want to add another anti-epileptic, and an SSRI. I’m also recommending rest for the next two weeks.
No recording sessions, no performances, minimal screen time, if possible.
His nervous system needs time to stabilize. ”
Vale felt like he couldn’t breathe. Kieran was suffering—had been suffering—for months, and Vale hadn’t known. And worse: Kieran had been hiding it from him.
Hours a day.
The words kept echoing in Vale’s mind like a dissonant chord that wouldn’t resolve. Hours of focal seizures. Forty to sixty of them. And Kieran had said nothing.
“How—” Vale’s voice came out strangled. He forced himself to breathe. “How long has he been hiding this?”
“Based on the timeline he described, probably around when you started recording the album.”
Vale had been so focused on cultivation, on pruning and shaping and bringing Kieran to full bloom, that he’d missed his rose was withering.
“The stress,” Vale said quietly, and it wasn’t a question. The word tasted like failure.
“Most likely the primary trigger, yes,” Dr. Henley nodded. “Combined with inconsistent sleep patterns—”
“He sleeps in my bed.” The words came out sharp, defensive. “Every night. I make sure he—”
But even as Vale said it, he remembered the nights Kieran had lain awake staring at the ceiling. The mornings he’d woken with shadows under his eyes. The way he’d already be up and writing, or making coffee…
Vale felt something crack open in his chest—not the careful breaking he inflicted on Kieran, but something jagged and uncontrolled. Terror, he realized. Pure, animal terror.
“I need you to understand the severity here. If these breakthrough seizures continue, we’re looking at potential cognitive impacts. Memory problems. Processing difficulties. And in worst-case scenarios—”
“Don’t.” The word came out hoarse. Vale couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t let himself imagine Kieran’s brilliant, poetic mind fragmenting beyond repair, reduced to—
No.
“Two weeks of rest,” he said. “No recording. I understand.”
After Dr. Henley left, Vale finally looked at his phone, steeling himself for whatever digital chaos awaited. The notification count had stopped updating at 99+ with a steady stream of calls, texts, social media mentions, and news alerts that painted a picture of complete exposure.
TMZ: brEAKING - Reclusive Music Producer Vale Rose’s Face Revealed During Artist’s Medical Emergency
Twitter trending: #ThornAndRose #PrayForThorn #ValeRose
Industry insiders texting:
Jessica McMillan – Sony
Holy shit, is that really you?
Phil Horovitz – Republic Records
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 care broadcast 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.