Chapter 54
Brothers, sisters, social blisters, twisted whispers from the past...
Vale
Five AM felt obscene for consciousness, but the marketing team insisted on an early meeting and Vale had learned decades ago that certain battles weren’t worth fighting.
He sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed in the kind of expensive casual that signaled professional competence without trying too hard, watching Kieran sleep.
I don’t want to leave you. Not even for a day.
Kieran’s face was peaceful in sleep, his features relaxed in ways they never quite managed during waking hours.
Vale’s fingers itched to trace the line of his jaw, to press against his throat just to feel his pulse, to wake him with the kind of pressure that would make those brown eyes flutter open with confused need.
I want to make you cry before I leave. I want to hear you sob my name just so the sound stays with me all day.
But that was selfish and indulgent—and Kieran needed rest more than Vale needed to satisfy his cravings. He settled for leaving a note on the nightstand:
Work on your secret project. I’ll be home by 6. Love you. -V
The ring was in his jacket pocket. He’d been carrying it for weeks now, waiting for a moment that felt right, terrified of moving too fast and watching Kieran’s face shift from love to panic.
The man who’d once flinched at every touch now curled against Vale like he’d been made to fit there—but marriage was different.
Marriage was permanent in ways that might trigger every flight instinct Kieran learned to suppress.
Soon. When you’re ready. When I’m sure it won’t send you running.
The drive into the city should have been time for mental preparation, reviewing talking points and contract negotiations. Instead, Vale found his mind wandering to what Kieran might eat for breakfast, whether he’d remember his medication, if he’d get distracted by writing and forget to drink water.
Take care of yourself, sweetheart. I’m not there to do it for you today.
Somewhere in the past months, worry had become as natural as breathing.
It wasn’t just the desire to control every variable anymore, it was a weeping wound, simple and consuming, the kind that made him check the weather forecast to ensure Kieran had a sweater laid out so he wouldn’t get cold if he wandered out to the greenhouse.
I thought I understood all of life’s complexities before. I thought I understood what this was. I understood nothing.
The meeting was tedious—marketing strategies and release timelines and demographics that meant nothing compared to the music itself. Vale contributed where necessary, signed documents that needed signatures, and spent most of his mental energy resisting the urge to text Kieran every thirty minutes.
At the lunch break, he lasted exactly four minutes before calling the landline he reconnected.
“Hey.” Kieran’s voice was warm, happy, and slightly breathless. “How’s the m-meeting?”
“Boring.” Vale stepped outside into gray city afternoon, away from the conference room fluorescents. “Have you eaten?”
“Yes, m-mom.” Kieran’s laugh was bright and made Vale want to drop everything he had planned so he could rush home and devour that laugh. “I made myself a s-sandwich. Took my meds at noon. I’m working on the th-thing.”
“How’s it coming?”
“Almost d-done. I think—I think it’s good, Vale. I think you’ll l-like it.”
The tentative pride in Kieran’s voice made Vale’s chest ache. Not with possession or satisfaction—just love, fierce and uncomplicated. It was just love. “I’m sure I will, sweetheart. I miss you.”
“I-I miss you t-too.” Kieran sighed, then added, softer: “The house feels empty without you.”
Marry me. Let me make sure you never feel empty again.
But he couldn’t say it over the phone. He couldn’t propose during a lunch break between tedious meetings. Kieran deserved better than that.
“I’ll be home in a few hours,” Vale promised, and meant it with every atom of his being.
After hanging up, he stared at his phone, his thumb brushing across the screen where Kieran’s contact photo smiled back at him. The photo was from their date—Kieran in the cream turtleneck, looking up at Vale with an expression that still made his breath catch.
You chose me. After everything, you chose me. And I will spend the rest of my life being worthy of that choice.
His phone buzzed:
Anderson
Heads up—Thayer’s been making noise about your “methods.” Might want to get ahead of it.
Vale’s good mood evaporated instantly.
Let him talk. No one will believe a failed artist with a grudge.
But tension settled into his shoulders anyway.
The afternoon brought more intrusions. An email from the concert venue manager about someone requesting backstage access, easily handled with explicit security instructions. His phone lit up with a new message:
Unknown
Enjoy your last peaceful day with him. After the concert, everyone will know what you really are.
Vale deleted it, but his hands were shaking with a rage that felt dangerous, close to the surface and uncontrolled.
You pathetic failure. You couldn’t create anything worth keeping, so you’re trying to destroy what I have. But Kieran isn’t yours to save. He doesn’t want saving.
“Valerian, you look positively murderous.” Nox’s voice cut through his spiral, smooth and amused as always. “Can I guess whose earned your special attention today?”
Vale returned from the bathroom, to find Nox sitting on the conference room table, wearing an expensive tailored red suit and that ever-present predatory smile. The last time they’d been this close, Vale had broken his nose.
“Why are you here?” Vale asked, not bothering with pleasantries.
“I made sure our schedules line up so I could check in on my favorite recluse.” Nox slid into the chair across from him.
His nose had healed perfectly—of course it had, Nox would never tolerate visible damage.
“Word on the street is that little miss Jericho has been poking around, asking questions about your boy. People are starting to talk. And you’re not helping matters by staying holed up like some lovesick Victorian with his beloved waiting to be taken by consumption. ”
Lovesick. Is that what I am now?
“Let them talk,” Vale said. “Thorn is exactly where he wants to be.”
“Oh, I know that.” Nox’s smile widened, showing too many teeth.
“I’ve seen how he looks at you. Like you hung the fucking moon and all the stars.
It’s nauseating and beautiful.” He touched his nose absently—a tell, whether conscious or not.
“I’m not here to relitigate our little disagreement.
I’m here because I actually prefer you functional, and you’re being sloppy. ”
“Sloppy?”
“In love.” Nox said it like a diagnosis.
“The great Valerian Rose, who lectured me for years about emotional distance and professional boundaries, has gone and fallen for one of his projects.
Congratulations. Mazel Tov. Whatever. “ He leaned forward, something almost like concern flickering beneath the predatory amusement.
“Love makes people stupid, Valerian. And stupid gets noticed.”
He’s not wrong. I’ve been obvious. Consumed. Unable to maintain any pretense of professional distance because I don’t want distance.
“I know what I’m doing,” Vale said, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true.
“Do you?” Nox stood, adjusting his jacket.
“Because from where I’m sitting, you look like a man who’d burn down everything he’s built for a boy with a pretty voice and prettier tears.
That’s not a criticism—I’d do the same, in your position.
I’m just saying... be careful. Not everyone will understand what you two have. ”
The words carried weight—a warning wrapped in their complicated history. They were rivals, yes. But Nox was also the only person who truly understood what Vale was capable of, because Nox was capable of the same things.
After he left, Vale sat in the empty conference room, the ring a small weight in his pocket.
He’s right. I would burn it all down for you. I’d destroy anyone who tried to take you from me. Is that love or obsession? Does it matter, if the result is the same?
His phone buzzed with a calendar reminder: book post-concert plans. Vale pulled up coastal property rentals, searching for something private and romantic. Big Sur had options—cliffside houses with ocean views, places where they could exist without scrutiny or bitter failures trying to interfere.
I’ll take you to see the ocean. You said you’ve never seen it. We’ll watch it together, and maybe—maybe that’s where I’ll ask you.
He started to book a week at a private rental, then paused. His usual approach would be to decide and inform, present it as a fait accompli. But this had to be special.
I want you to choose the location.
He saved the listing instead of booking it, making a mental note to show Kieran the photos tonight. To ask if he’d like to go, and mean it as a real question with the possibility of saying no.
4:30 PM found Vale wrapping up final signatures, barely restraining himself from leaving early. The drive home felt endless, traffic moving with deliberate malice designed specifically to keep him from where he needed to be.
His mind drifted to tonight’s plans—they’d have dinner, maybe watch something that made them both laugh.
He’d show Kieran the Big Sur listing, ask what he thought about the ocean.
And later, after Kieran was relaxed and happy, Vale would take him apart slowly and thoroughly, savoring every gasp and shiver.
Not because you need breaking anymore. Just because I love the sounds you make. Because your pleasure has become as necessary to me as your pain once was.
But as he approached the house, something felt wrong. An unfamiliar car was parked down the road—a dark sedan with rental plates. Vale’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. It was probably a neighbor’s guest that had broken down, probably nothing, but unease prickled at the base of his skull.
Then he found the front door was unlocked.
Vale’s hand froze on the handle. The only way this door could be open was if someone had entered with a key, or if Kieran had deliberately opened it to let someone inside.
No. He wouldn’t. He knows better than to answer the door when I’m not home.
“Kieran?” His voice echoed through the empty house. “I’m home.”
Silence.
Vale’s mind immediately went to the worst possibility—Kieran had left. Someone had convinced him to leave. The unlocked door, the strange car, the empty house. After everything they’d built together, someone had finally made him run.
No. He loves me. He chose me. He wouldn’t—
But panic was already building as Vale moved through familiar rooms, cataloging evidence that screamed wrongness. Kitchen chair pulled out at an odd angle, as if someone had stood abruptly. Kieran’s laptop abandoned on the couch. His medicine still sat on the counter.
And the basement door was ajar.
Kieran was meticulous about keeping it shut unless they were recording because the sight of the stairs still made him shake. He would never leave it open. Unless—
Vale’s hand touched the doorknob, and that’s when he heard it.
Shouting. Muffled by the soundproofing but unmistakable. A man’s voice, desperate and panicked, screaming words Vale couldn’t quite make out.
Vale froze, every muscle locked, as his brain tried to process what he was hearing.
That’s not Kieran’s voice.