Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER
“Someone once pulled me out of the dark. Now I leave the light on for others.” – Cyrus
CYRUS
The bass from the opening act bleeds through the walls, vibrates the soles of my boots, and seeps into my bones.
Three months ago, that sound felt like a countdown.
Now?
It feels like a heartbeat.
I lean back on the worn leather couch backstage, phone in my hand as the live ticks upward. Comments scroll faster than I can read. Names, hearts, and questions stack on top of each other.
“Alright, alright,” I mutter, smirking at the screen. “You animals are blowing this up tonight.”
The chat is flooded with “We missed you. How are you feeling? Are you really okay now?”
I drag a hand over the back of my neck.
“Okay, first—no, I’m not magically cured of my asshole nature. Hate to break it to you.” A few laughing emojis fly up. “Lupus doesn’t get fixed. There is no cure. I can’t take a pill and be good to go.”
Shifting forward, I rest my elbows on my knees.
“It’s… unpredictable. That’s the best word for it.
Some days, I wake up and feel like I can take on the world.
Other days?” I shrug. “My joints ache, my head pounds, and I’m so damn tired I can’t move.
And that’s with the right meds. That’s why we’ve reduced the number of shows on a tour. I can’t overdo it.”
The comments slow just a fraction.
“But here’s the thing no one really talks about with any autoimmune disorder…”
I love these lives. It took a little persuasion from Haven, but I see the benefit in sharing my story and my struggle.
“You can look fine while your body tries to shut itself down from the inside out. That messes with your head more than anything.”
A comment catches my eye.
“How did you know something was wrong?”
“How did I know something was wrong? That’s a good one.”
I blow out a breath.
“It took a really long time for me to recognize it for what it was. I thought what everyone around me thought. I was burning the candle at both ends. Touring, drinking, and not sleeping. Then I got addicted to cocaine and landed in rehab. I figured I deserved to feel like shit. That this was just the norm for the lifestyle.” I let out a bitter laugh.
“Turns out my immune system had started attacking me instead. That’s part of the reason I was self-medicating in the beginning.
It was a really fucked up mess. The doctors didn’t see it either and kept telling me things that didn’t make sense.
I knew something wasn’t right that there was more going on. You know deep down.”
A few comments pop up—Same. I thought I was crazy, and no one believed me.
“That,” I say, pointing at the screen. “Right there. That’s why I started doing these lives and sharing my story.”
I sit up straighter, more serious now.
“Too many people get told it’s in their head. Too many people get brushed off because they look fine. Meanwhile, you’re sitting there wondering if you’re losing your mind because no one can see what’s happening inside your body, but you can fucking feel it.”
I shake my head.
“Not anymore.”
My voice drops, steady.
“You’re not crazy. You’re not weak. And you’re not alone in it.”
The comment section explodes again with hearts, thank you, and stories.
I swallow past the knot in my throat.
“Another thing,” I add, rubbing my chest absently. “Stress makes it worse. Big time. Flares hit harder when you’re running on empty, pushing too hard, and pretending you’re fine when you’re not.”
I pause and smirk into the camera.
“Ask me how I know.”
A few laughing comments roll in, but I can feel the understanding behind them.
“Now I actually listen when my body tells me to slow down. Which,” I chuckle, “is a work in progress because I’m still me. And I have an amazing woman who kicks my ass when I’m getting to that point.”
Another question flashes on the screen.
“Are you scared?”
That one hits hard. I slowly nod.
“Yeah,” I say simply. “I am. Some days more than others.”
I look straight into the camera.
“But I’m more scared of wasting my life, pretending I’m invincible, than I am of living it knowing I’m not.
I’ve learned to listen to and accept my body.
But I’m not sure we will ever be friends again.
I know that sounds strange, but it sort of was like a bad breakup for a long time.
We had to negotiate with one another to get on the same page again and we still don’t always agree. ”
The chat is silent for half a second.
Then, more comments pop up faster this time.
I grin.
“Damn, you guys are trying to make me emotional before I go on stage. Not fucking right,” I tease.
The door beside me creaks open.
I glance over, and there she is…Haven.
She leans in the doorway, smiling, and looking like a fucking goddess.
I turn the camera toward her.
“Hey, look who finally decided to show up to say hi.”
Haven laughs under her breath and gives a small wave.
“Sorry everyone, but it’s time,” she says.
Something in me quiets at the sound of her voice. She’s my home. No matter where we are, what hotel we’re in, I feel at peace in her arms. I turn the camera back to me.
“Alright,” I say, pushing to my feet. “That’s my cue.”
I pause, looking into the screen, and get serious again.
“Take care of yourselves, yeah? Listen to your body. Don’t let anyone tell you that what you’re feeling isn’t real.” Then, with a smirk, I tell them, “Stay a little dangerous.”
I end the live, cross the room to Haven, and press my phone into her hand.
“Hold that for me, but don’t answer it if it rings.”
She arches a brow, suspicion written all over her face. Good. I love keeping my fiancée on her toes.
“Should I be worried?”
“Always.”
I don’t give her time to argue before I pull her into me and kiss her hard. There is no hesitation, no warning, just heat, familiarity, and everything we are now.
She smiles against my mouth while pushing at my chest.
“Cy…”
“Quickie?” I murmur against her lips.
“Absolutely not.”
“Five minutes.”
“No.”
“Three.”
“Cyrus Vale,” she growls. It’s supposed to sound angry, but it just turns me on more.
“Fine, but you’re killing my creative process.”
Haven rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, her cheeks are flushed, and her fingers are still curled in my shirt. She doesn’t actually want me to go. I know it, she knows it and that’s enough for now.
From down the hall, I hear a pretend cough, then Vex yells, “Get a room!”
Followed by a chorus of laughter.
I grin, brushing my thumb along Haven’s jaw.
“After the show, I plan on making you regret your terrible life choices.”
“My terrible life choices?” She repeats.
“Yeah.” I kiss her again, softer this time. “You picked me.”
Her eyes soften.
“Best decision I ever made. Most of the time anyway.”
Ain’t that the truth. I press one last kiss to her lips, then step back, already moving to follow the guys.
“Don’t go anywhere, Butterfly,” I call over my shoulder. “I’ve got a stage to own before I come back and claim what’s mine.”
“Go,” Haven laughs.
I jog down the hall, catching up to the guys as the roar of the crowd swells. Three months ago, I fell apart. Now? Now I walk toward the stage with something I never thought I’d have.
A second chance and a reason to fight for it.
Haven and I have already survived the wreckage.
Now I’m earning the encore.