Chapter 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?
I’m bad at keeping things alive. Everything I touch dies or breaks or falls apart.
Kieran pulled his knees to his chest, curling into himself as the spiral gained momentum. Jericho was dead. Alex was dead. And now even the flowers that grew from her remains were dying under his care.
“Kieran?” Vale’s voice echoed through the greenhouse, distant but approaching. “Sweetheart, where are you?”
Kieran didn’t move, couldn’t move. Vale’s voice still made something nervous flutter in his stomach sometimes, even though he loved Vale more than air, more than music, more than his own name.
Footsteps on the greenhouse’s stone path grew closer. “There you are. What’s—” Vale’s voice cut off and suddenly he was beside Kieran, his hands gentle as they checked his pulse, his pupils, the familiar post-episode assessment. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I k-killed it,” Kieran sobbed, his voice muffled against his knees. “The f-flower. It’s dying and I don’t know what I d-did wrong.”
Vale’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him close.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Vale murmured against his hair.
“That’s how lilies work. They bloom, the petals fall, and then they bloom again.
It’s not anything you did.” His hand stroked through Kieran’s hair with soothing repetition.
“The flower will keep growing even when it’s just a stem with no petals. That’s what they’re designed to do.”
Kieran’s breathing began to settle, but new anxieties rushed in to fill the space.
“I’m still sc-scared,” he whispered against Vale’s shoulder.
“About tonight. What if the concert is a j-joke? What if I didn’t actually sell out?
What if no one shows up and it’s just empty s-seats?
” His voice cracked with familiar terror.
“What if I have a seizure on stage? What if people l-laugh at my stutter when I try to talk between songs?”
Vale’s response was immediate—his mouth finding Kieran’s with the kind of kiss that made everything else dissolve. Soft pressure, the taste of too much coffee, the grounding weight of Vale’s hands cupping his face. Kieran’s mind grew quiet.
“Come inside with me,” Vale said when he pulled away. “I want to show you something.”
Kieran nodded, reaching for the fallen petal and tucking it carefully between the pages of his notebook. He stood on unsteady legs, accepting Vale’s offered hand and he didn’t let go until they reached the house.
The suitcases by the front door made Kieran’s stomach clench with fresh anxiety. Two expensive pieces of luggage packed for their post-concert trip to the ocean. He’d never flown before, had never been on an airplane.
Instead of heading to their usual spot on the living room floor where Vale would card gentle fingers through his hair while Kieran leaned against his legs, Vale settled on the couch and patted his lap.
“What are you d-doing?” Kieran asked, settling carefully between Vale’s thighs, his back pressed against Vale’s chest.
Vale’s phone appeared in his peripheral vision, fingers typing something out of Kieran’s view while his other hand ghosted over Kieran’s collar, tracing the edges lazily before he slipped a finger beneath it to rub the hollow of his neck.
Kieran closed his eyes and let his own fingers run up and down Vale’s forearm, feeling the slight jump of the muscle. Everything about Vale was so warm all the time, like a living, breathing security blanket.
“Look,” Vale murmured.
Kieran opened his eyes to see a banking app with numbers that had too many commas.
“I’m c-confused,” Kieran said slowly. “What am I supposed to be l-looking at?”
Vale’s finger pointed to the top of the screen, where Kieran’s name was displayed in clean black letters. “It’s your account.”
Kieran froze, his body going rigid against Vale’s chest. “Where did this c-come from? This has to be another prank or—”
“I’ve been depositing money here since your first video went viral,” Vale explained patiently. “It’s your money, sweetheart. What did you think was happening to the revenue from the videos? The single releases? The album sales?”
“I—I just assumed you’d k-keep it. Like rent. Since I live here for f-free and eat your food and—”
“I would never dream of charging you rent,” Vale said softly. “This is your home. This is your money. You can spend it however you want.”
The numbers on the screen made Kieran feel sick, somehow. It didn’t seem right. “You should h-handle that,” Kieran said, shaking his head. “I trust you to t-take care of it. I don’t want to think about money right now.”
Vale hesitated for a moment, then he just nodded.
“Do you want to do anything special before the concert?” Vale asked, his hand resuming its gentle tracing of Kieran’s throat. “We could go into the city, get lunch somewhere nice, walk around—”
“I’m f-fine where I am,” Kieran interrupted softly. “If that’s okay.”
His fingertips had started their familiar itch again—the urge to pick, to pull, to find release in small violences against himself. He reached for Vale’s free hand and pressed it against his own, threading their fingers together tightly.
“Hold my hands?” he whispered.
Vale understood immediately. He always did.
His other hand left the phone and found Kieran’s remaining hand, lacing their fingers together until Kieran’s destructive impulses had nowhere to go.
Sometimes they stayed like this for hours, Vale’s grip gentle but unyielding, keeping Kieran’s hands occupied until the urge passed.
Other times, Vale found different ways to redirect him—intimate distractions that left Kieran too breathless and boneless to hurt himself.
Today, Vale just held on.
Kieran let himself sink into the familiar warmth, pressing his ear against Vale’s sternum where he could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
The sound was grounding in ways that made his concert nerves feel manageable instead of overwhelming.
He was still scared—terrified, really—but the beating of Vale’s heart against his ear made everything better.
The steady thump-thump became a metronome for his own breathing, slowing his racing pulse until it matched Vale’s measured rhythm. This was all he needed before facing the crowd tonight. Just this quiet moment, this borrowed heartbeat, this sense of belonging somewhere safe.