Chapter 52 #2
That’s me. Trying to grow in someone else’s shadow.
“I’m s-sorry,” Kieran whispered, the words catching in his throat. “I’m sorry you have to—that I t-take up so much of your time. That you have to n-neglect things because of me.”
The rhythm came from the back of his skull, a cadence forming in his mind the way lyrics always did when emotions became too overwhelming to process normally:
I’m a fucking flower in a cemetery,
Roots wrapped around the bones buried deep…
The image was too perfect, too devastating—him trying to bloom in soil enriched by death to create something that might look like beauty.
I’m not worth this. Not worth the neglect of his family’s legacy, not worth ten thousand people’s attention, not worth the time he’s invested in trying to make me into something.
Vale’s arms wrapped around him from behind, warm and secure despite Kieran’s attempt to retreat. “Why are you crying, sweetheart? Talk to me.”
But Kieran couldn’t articulate it, couldn’t explain the specific combination of guilt and inadequacy and self-loathing that made him want to reach down and rip up that seedling He wanted to put it out of its misery before it wasted energy trying to grow in a space where it would always be overshadowed and always be insufficient.
It’s going to die anyway. In the shadow of that rose bush. Better to end it now than let it struggle.
His fingers twitched toward the tiny plant, the urge to destroy something as small and pathetic as himself almost overwhelming.
“What do you see?” Vale asked softly, his chin resting on Kieran’s shoulder as they both looked down.
“A t-tiny weed,” Kieran whispered, voice thick with tears. “Something that will either r-ruin your beautiful garden or d-die trying to grow here.”
Vale’s arms tightened around him briefly, then released. “Come here. Crouch down with me. Look closer.”
I don’t want to look closer. I don’t want to see how insignificant it is.
But Kieran followed Vale’s gentle guidance, kneeling on the warm greenhouse floor beside the rose bush. This close, he could see the seedling’s delicate leaves more clearly, the way they’d just begun to unfurl from the soil.
“This is a rose seedling,” Vale explained. “I transferred it here last week because its roots were finally strong enough to survive in open soil.”
Kieran stared at the tiny plant, trying to reconcile Vale’s words with his own certainty that it was doomed. “It’s so s-small.”
“Growing roses from seeds is incredibly difficult,” Vale continued, one hand settling on Kieran’s back while the other gestured toward the mature rose bush towering beside them.
“They require cold stratification—weeks of careful temperature control to trick them into germinating. Then constant monitoring, watering, protection from disease and pests.”
So much effort for something that might not survive anyway.
“It’ll d-die,” Kieran said flatly. “In the shadow of that b-big one. It doesn’t have a ch-chance.”
Vale was quiet for a moment, his hand continuing to move in slow circles against Kieran’s spine. “I started cultivating this particular seed when you came into my life.”
Months ago. I’ve been with him for months and it’s still this tiny, fragile thing.
“That’s p-pathetic,” Kieran whispered. “All this t-time and it’s barely grown at all.”
“Growing roses isn’t for the impatient,” Vale said softly.
“They need constant pruning—cutting away the parts that would drain energy from healthy growth. They need support structures as they develop. They need someone willing to tend them carefully, consistently, even when progress seems impossibly slow.”
Vale’s fingers found Kieran’s chin, turning his face away from the seedling to meet his eyes directly. “Growing roses requires love, Kieran. Real love. The kind that understands beauty takes time to cultivate properly.”
He started growing this when he found me. When he decided I was worth his time...
Kieran looked back at the seedling, seeing it differently—not as something doomed to die, but as evidence of Vale’s long-term investment. Proof that even when progress seemed invisible, growth was happening beneath the surface where no one else could see.
Maybe it could grow to be as beautiful as the bush beside it. If it can withstand the weight of blooming into something new.
The thought settled something in his chest, making the concert announcement feel slightly less impossible. He turned to look at Vale again.
“C-can I kiss you?” Kieran asked, voice still rough from crying. “It makes me f-feel better.”
Vale leaned in immediately, close enough that Kieran could feel his breath against his lips. “You never need to ask to kiss me, sweetheart. These lips are always yours.”
Kieran closed the distance between them and his last stuttered sob escaped into Vale’s mouth, transforming into something that felt less like breaking and more like blooming.
Vale’s arms tightened around him as they kissed, warm and secure in the humid greenhouse air that smelled like roses and earth and growth. Kieran felt the anxiety about the concert and the guilt about being a burden dissolving into something more manageable.
I’m a flower made of trauma, photosynthesizing you.
The lyric formed complete and perfect in his mind, capturing exactly what this was—him taking Vale’s lessons, his careful breaking, his patient cultivation, and transforming it into something that could bloom. Using the very methods that should have destroyed him as fuel for growth instead.
You’re my light. The thing I grow toward even when the process hurts.
When they finally pulled apart, Kieran’s breathing had steadied, the crushing weight of inadequacy replaced by an inkling of hope.
The seedling was still tiny beside its towering parent plant, but maybe that was okay.
Maybe slow growth was still growth. Maybe being worthy of careful cultivation was enough.