The first time he saw her perform, he didn't hesitate to stare. He couldn't help himself.

Her name suited her - 'Red' like her hair. Red like her full lips. Red like fire, an enticing flame that never failed to captivate. A flame burning in the centre of the stage, a beacon wrapped in gold. Her passionate voice dispelled the gloom coating the audience outside of her ring of light. It seized the hearts of her patrons, a hidden snake of perplexity winding itself around them so that they were immobilised in a trance.

Red was unique, of course. One of a kind. Her music spoke on an emotional level never reached before and her voice illuminated her lyrics in the dust-filled light of The Empty Set. She added something else to the city. Something that lit a flame in even the dullest of people, sparked a hidden emotion that took many by surprise. She managed to reach deeper, to arouse a profound, powerful feeling that swept them away. Her assertive nature led her to push the boundaries, to go beyond; she wasn't afraid to try something new, to play with what would ruffle some feathers. It wasn't a surprise that her music was enough to raise a few controversies.

He wondered how she juggled this with her busy lifestyle and fame, and if she ever thought about the quiet power her music held.

He pocketed this thought into the depths of his mind to ponder over later. She was already making her way backstage against the roar of applause from the audience. Already, he had seen many of her shows and now he felt compelled to approach her. She was like a shadow, an enigma; bright on the spotlight but immediately disappearing when it was over. The media was persistent as she was a rising star, but she still managed to stave them away and the mysterious air surrounding her fit her nicely.

The outcome of his approach was better than he'd expected. At least he didn't look as stupid as he felt he would, although when he opened the door to her dressing room - thankfully not when she was in the middle of undressing - his mouth had immediately dried up and his brain blanked.

On the way home that night he almost walked into a streetlamp, slipped on a slick road tile, and had to apologise profoundly to a woman after tripping over her dog in a crowded walkway, which in his opinion, was way too small to even be considered a dog. But he couldn't help himself. His mind was pouring through his thoughts like a hurricane.

'…Uh, hi.' He'd said with a cotton mouth.

She'd given a small smile. It wasn't unusual for an eager fan to catch her after one of her performances. They were usually flustered and blushing. He seemed more collected, but his sharp eyes caught her by surprise. Like he was on a mission. '..Hey,' she'd replied, 'are you looking for an autograph?', before realising that he didn't have anything with him. Her voice trailed off when she suddenly recognised him as one of her regulars. The man with the flashy triangle on his jacket. She caught him in the crowd every once and awhile, making his way out.

Somehow they managed to have a conversation, and somehow he managed to walk her home that night with the promise of seeing her again sometime, perhaps for a coffee or some food. And maybe even a walk in the park after that. They'd have to see how it went. She wasn't one to rush into these sort of things.

It was only on her way home that she had remembered that she didn't know his name. She meant to ask the next time they met, she really did - but her question dissipated when they trailed off into conversation about anything and everything; favourite books, favourite movies, favourite place in Cloudbank. He seemed nervous at first, awkward, but it slowly gave way to the hidden person deep inside him; one that was funny and witty and could weave a good tale. This only developed as they saw each more, and they crafted a comfortable relationship that started as a friendship within the fringes of something more. His unusual nature did nothing but heighten her curiosity, and unwittingly her attraction to him as well. Although she wasn't entirely hesitant, she promised herself that she would let their relationship grow with time - they would just have to see where it led to.

It wasn't love at first sight. She'd smitten him, yes, but falling in love came slow, patient.

They spent as much time as they could together. He slotted himself in whenever he had the chance - a cancelled show due to overbooking, a few hours between work for some flatbread, a special event she had been invited to by Sybil. He also made sure to watch all her performances, sneaking out of backstage to his usual seat. They watched movies, visited the park, ate at cafes; anything and everything.

She would catch his eye with a wink and his throat would tighten. A hidden message; a secret look that only they shared. He could have sworn that she was smirking as she sang - and he couldn't wait to wipe it off her face when they were alone.

Their relationship deepened over time. Strolls through the park turned into candle-lit dinners by the Goldwalk. A touch of the hand, a whisper, a laugh led them stumbling into her apartment at midnight. Sometimes she barely finished wiping off her makeup before he'd find her and kiss her neck slowly. She'd mumble a few excuses to Sybil on why she suddenly couldn't stay longer to have lunch and they'd leave in a hurry, missing the look of shock on Ms Reisz's face. It took a long time to develop this level of intimacy, as Red was very private in her affairs, which was duly respected by Boxer.

Eventually he spent more time at her apartment then anywhere else in Cloudbank. Neither of them were exceptional cooks and Junction Jan's Sea Monster was a regular meal. He slowly grew accustomed to her lifestyle and tailored his routine to fit her busy schedule. Although she wasn't a slob, she did have a habit of letting things slide once and a while, with clothes hanging off chairs and dirty dishes left around the kitchen. It was mainly due to her work, and she practically lived in their bedroom. He would help her when she was swamped with it and too busy to tidy, collecting empty coffee mugs and greasy cartons of Junction Jan's. He swiped clean the kitchen and arranged the dishes back to their respectable place. He made the bed and remembered to give Luna her daily meal, picking up stray items of clothing strewn here and there. It always earned him a relieved sigh, a grateful smile and a plethora of kisses on his cheeks, nose, mouth.

When she grew stressful and paced down the hallway he would make her a calming cup of tea, complete with some biscuits or two and give her a reassuring peck on the cheek as he eased her into a chair. She always tried to turn away before he could see the faint blush on her cheeks and tease her about it, but he caught her chin and kissed her on the lips. She would laugh and swat him away before it could deepen, insisting that he was distracting her from working, although her face was coloured in the way of her namesake.

He learned many of the little habits she did when he was alone like this with her. When she worked there was often held a pencil between her lips, a hum resonating from her chest. She sometimes chewing her lip when her pencil resided in her hand to note something down, and when she woke up she liked to stretch like a cat and kiss his nose before going to make some breakfast. Luna would be walked by either of them in the mornings, but in the evenings they were often too busy concentrating on each other to worry about that.

He had to admit, she entranced him with practically everything she did. He gave her something other than Music to love, cherish. His subtle humour made her laugh louder than she thought she ever could. It was genuine and she couldn't get enough of it, especially hearing his smooth, rich voice. He was not overbearing and crude, although admittedly a bit withdrawn, particularly at those extravagant social events Sybil liked to organise. He could handle some small talk here and there, but after a while she could tell that he would rather be anywhere else. But he excited her in a thrilling way that she was eager to explore. Even in public she didn't hesitate to edge closer to him when they admired the sunset in the park, or link their arms when walking through crowded streets. He liked it when she did that. He liked being close to her, and he could tell that she did too by the way she looked up at him and kissed him deeply.

In the mornings he would usually wake up first. He would sigh and roll over and see her snuggled into her pillow on the other side of the bed. He would carefully run his hand through her messy hair and she would tuck herself closer to him. Sometimes he would kiss her all over her face and she would protest and roll away from him as he chuckled. He just couldn't help himself.