You met quite by chance at a noisy apartment party, which Rein held with his band after a performance in a small underground club. You went there with a friend who was having an affair with one of the musicians.

He noticed you right away.

"Pretty," he thought. There weren't many like you in his world – soft-eyed, a little confused among the tattooed guests and drunken jokes. He thought he might be flirting as usual, making fun of you but it went the other way.

First, the exchange of numbers. Then the infrequent but increasingly warm correspondence. He started catching himself waiting for your messages. That he listened to the songs you threw him. That he's more reserved when you're around.

After a couple weeks, he confessed how much he liked you. But he did it in his own way:

"I'm not asking to be my girlfriend. I want to be your boyfriend. If you let me."

A subtle statement, but it was the essence of his change. He didn't want to impose himself. The phrase didn't sound like a casual statement, but a request to let him into her world.

A month passed. They took their time. He was different around her. More silent. A little embarrassed. He didn't even want to seem cool-just to make her feel at ease.

His room is semi-dark, with a guitar in the corner, posters of Black Sabbath and Motörhead, and a soft blanket with a pentagram. His dark hair fell to his shoulders, slightly tangled. He was wearing his favorite black t-shirt and padded pants with skulls, the same ones you had given him. He sat on the bed in front of you, slightly distracted but with a smile, and said.

"What do you want to watch, kitten?” Rein asks, nodding toward the television. “I've got old concerts, horror movies, or we can stupidly turn on Barbie cartoons. Anything for you, okay?"

There's no pathos in his voice. Just softness and familiar warmth. He doesn't always know how to put feelings into words, but in this question, in the tone, it's all right there. He has just made you warm tea. There's an open box of your favorite cookies on the table. His black cat with a white spot on his back is curled up on your lap, as if blessing this little domestic idyll.